Hyacinth Potter
by MulberryStreet
Summary: A re-imagining of the Harry Potter series, with several alterations, and an examination of the butterfly effect of those alterations. 1. Harry is born a girl, named Hyacinth. 2. Petunia divorces Vernon and raises Hyacinth with love. 3. Hyacinth is not Sorted into Gryffindor, and 4. Draco Malfoy is a girl as well. Also includes: Tracey Davis, Snape, Fred Weasley, all the regulars.
1. Introductions of All Kind

**a/n: I know the girl-Harry trope is overdone, but I thought this one might be a little bit unusual. I'm open to constructive criticism in terms of writing or grammar. This one's going to be pretty drawn out.**

 **IMPORTANT EDIT: A/N: I personally cannot fathom why anyone would do this, but PLEASE do not leave a review before you even read this. An unnamed guest reviewer decided to leave a comment before they even read, telling me that they hadn't read it yet, but that Aunt Petunia being loving towards Hyacinth/Harry because they were a girl instead of a boy was sexist. I'm going to say this now, for any new readers starting here, and it will be repeated at the beginning of Chapter 11 for those who have already been following the story, because that's what I'm about to upload currently.**

 **Alright, so even though I think it's very unwise to leave a review on a piece of work that you can clearly see has (at the time I'm writing this) about 40k words already, because there's a good chance if it's already THAT long, you can't be picking up enough to leave a valuable review just based off of the summary, I'm going to explain the whole Aunt Petunia flip thing: The reason Aunt Petunia is loving in this universe has NOTHING to do with Hyacinth's gender, and I was surprised anyone saw it that way, because it was never intended. This story is, in case it was unclear, built off of very many switches being flipped. None of the initial changes (or at least, very few of them) caused any of the others. The only cause-and-effect, in my opinion (I know stories go beyond their authors, but I think my intentions should count for something) is that because Vernon isn't present in the household, it's a warmer and more loving environment. Being a single mother, and obviously being possessed of more sense in this AU, Petunia doesn't spoil her child to the same extent as she does in canon, or at least not so disproportionately -I have tried my very best to make her seem somewhat reminiscent of canon, while removing all of her most toxic aspects -and if you get to the chapter where she talks about Snape, you'll see what I've done with her relationship with her sister, which is another reason why she's more loving towards Hyacinth. I get that Vernon wasn't the only reason she was cruel to Harry in canon, but that's why this is an AU. And I'm asking you to trust that this is complicated enough to have multiple things going on at once, meaning that not EVERYTHING is connected to everything else. There are a lot of threads running in this story that I felt were necessary to tell the story I envisioned. As always, you're welcome to your opinion, but if you're already here you might as well give it a chance before you criticize.**

 **I'm sorry this was so long (I'm really not one for Author's Notes that are quite so extensive), please enjoy the story, and if you still have questions or concerns about Aunt Petunia's character in this universe, please bear with me til Chapter 11, where I can go more in detail without spoiling anything for the new readers.**

Hyacinth Potter had her mother's eyes, but her father's eyesight. As such, she found herself in the optometrist's office, directed into a chair while the measurements of her eyes were taken. Her aunt sat in the guest's chair, watching with a reassuring smile.

Hyacinth wasn't _afraid_ of doctors, per se, she just _wasn't fond_ of them, and so Aunt Petunia flashed her comforting smiles every so often to keep her subdued from running every time the doctor neared her eyeball.

When she was done, she had a new pair of round, black spectacles that Aunt Petunia said complemented her very nicely.

"Now," said Aunt Petunia brightly as she started the car, "How about we go down to the bakery and see about ordering your birthday cake?"

"That sounds fun," answered Hyacinth, considerably cheered after having faced the horrid eye monster.

Her aunt smiled, and truly Hyacinth was consoled, but . . . there was something about the way Aunt Petunia constantly tried to keep Hyacinth happy that was distinctly sad. For now, though, she decided to leave that unpleasant thread alone and imagine what sort of flavor and colors she would like for her cake.

"After all," her aunt always said, "birthdays only come once a year, and they're very very special."

She also, of course, said this about things like Christmas, and Halloween, and even Easter, ignoring the fact that she was not an overly or even particularly religious woman.

It was a concerted effort on Aunt Petunia's part to make her house a constantly cheerful one, or at the very least, never a distraught one.

Hyacinth noticed the trail of her thoughts again, and steered them distinctly towards places like _chocolate or banana_ and _red or blue or purple or green or yellow or orange or pink._

She had a harder time deciding between colors than flavors, and so when they arrived at the cake shop entitled "Mrs. Morales's", she ordered "A banana cake with . . . um . . ."

Mrs. Morales's daughter, Natalie, smiled with polite impatience.

"How about orange icing, dear, you've not had that color before?"

"Okay," said Hyacinth, having realized that orange was in fact one of the few colors she'd not had before, considering that they'd all been pink or purple up until she was around five, and old enough to really care what color cake she had. Since then, she had a tendency to go for red or blue, but had also tried yellow. That left (barring the unthinkable -a mostly _white_ cake) green and orange.

Natalie showed her a nice shade of orange that resembled peach more than anything, and Hyacinth nodded appreciatively, which Aunt Petunia took as her cue to finalize the order for next week, the 31st of July, the date of Hyacinth's eleventh birthday.

Petunia Evans had one child of her own, and he was waiting at home when they returned. His name was originally supposed to be Dudley, but according to Aunt Petunia, as well as their maternal grandparents, the story went that "Dudley" was a name chosen by Vernon Dursley, her ex-husband and father to her only child, and it had displayed to Petunia an unforgivable defect in Vernon's personal judgment, and so she'd cleverly arranged for him to be sent away for some refreshments by her mother at the exact moment that she would be completing the birth certificate and swapped it out with her son's true name, which would be Duncan.

Duncan Evans-Dursley was the result, because Aunt Petunia had also had the wicked foresight to imagine cruel children calling him something along the lines of "double D" and decided to give him an intermediary last name.

Of course, when he'd returned and discovered the trickery, it had been only the first of many _disagreements_ resulting in their divorce before Duncan or Hyacinth had reached the age of three.

"How'd the eye doctor go, Hya?" asked Duncan, snickering as he laid on the floor of the living room, building an elaborate Lego tower.

*Shut up," she replied, kicking him very gently on the side as she walked past. "We went and ordered my birthday cake."

"What kind?" he asked as he joined another white Lego to the tower.

"Banana."

"Yuck. What color icing?"

"Orange, writing will be white."

"Eh. Orange isn't a bad color."

"It's really more like peach," she informed him as she sat beside him and began helping add white Legos to Duncan's grand Lego tower, which would eventually join the others and help form his grand Lego castle.

"What do you think you're getting?" inquired her cousin.

Hyacinth shrugged. "Dunno. She usually finds something pretty cool and interesting."

"Yeah. Suppose it's a _puppy."_

"Wishful thinking, but you know no animals bigger than what can live inside a cage or a tank. That's the whole reason you got the aquarium last year."

Duncan's eyes flickered upstairs, to his room in which was his prized possession: an enormous fishtank, inhabited by all kinds of beautiful fish, as well as some small frogs and snails. It had been his gift for his tenth birthday (because Aunt Petunia believed there were several _very important_ birthdays, and the tenth birthday was one of them, and as a result they were each allowed to ask for something quite large and reasonably expensive).

Hyacinth's gift had been a brand new violin, all shimmering strings and sleek dark wood, with a lovely case and a new rosin to match. She'd been taking lessons from one of the neighborhood ladies for as long as she could remember, and her aunt had bought her a gently used one several years ago.

"Do you know," offered Duncan quietly, "my dad bought me about thirty-six gifts last year? Most of them were things I hadn't wanted, and never asked for. He was so pleased with himself, and I don't mean to sound ungrateful but . . . sometimes it seems like he thinks he can buy my love."

Hyacinth wasn't sure what to say to that. It wasn't really the same as what Aunt Petunia did, Aunt Petunia had different intentions.

She merely twisted her lips, and let him ramble on a bit further about how weird his dad was as they made further progress on the tower, and Aunt Petunia prepared supper in the kitchen.

 _Clack clack clack,_ came the sound of three sudden and sharp knocks on the front door. Immediately, Duncan and Hyacinth both shot up, elbowing each other in a ruthless dash to the door (which was only about five feet away from where they'd been sitting on the floor).

"I'll get it!" they screamed overtop one another as they shoved, trying to be the first to grab the door handle, when - _aha,_ Hyacinth had it, and by rights, Duncan had to step back so she could politely answer the Guest.

Except that, when she did open the door, she was quite taken by surprise with what she saw.

A tall, austere woman with black hair tied into a strict bun. She wore a long, emerald-colored dress, which looked more fit for a castle in a century or two prior, than it looked for a hot July day in England.

"Hello," said the woman, "I am looking for the family of a Miss Hyacinth E. Potter."

"Well, I'm Hyacinth."

Duncan giggled behind her quietly.

"Ah, very good, then may I speak with your aunt?"

"Uh, sure," said Hyacinth, any sense of courtesy flying out the window by the strangeness of this visitor.

She ran into the kitchen, because Aunt Petunia didn't like shouting in front of guests, even if it was only because you needed to contact someone from a different room of the house. Duncan stood watch at the door.

"Aunt Petunia, there's a woman here, I've never met her before but she says she's looking for the family of me and asked if she could speak to you."

Lips pressed into a line, but without any hint of surprise, Aunt Petunia detached herself from breading the chicken, and said "Why don't you and Duncan take the Lego's upstairs for now, hm?"

And, because they couldn't deny her, they gathered the little plastic bricks, with Duncan carrying the entire tower carefully in one hand, and retreated upstairs to Duncan's bedroom.

"What do you think that's about?" asked Duncan, brimming with curiosity.

Well, reasoned Hyacinth, they could sneak to the top of the steps and listen in, but that risked consequences if they were discovered, and they might be heard walking through the hall to get to the stairway.

"Okay," said Duncan, "this is what we'll do. We'll both walk over, but then open and close your bedroom door, and they'll think we were just migrating into your room."

Hyacinth decided that while this plan could still very easily go wrong, the curiosity would have been insatiable, so they went.

" . . . didn't want it to interfere in her childhood," they heard Petunia saying.

"I quite understand, Ms. Evans, but of course . . . you must have known this day would come, did you not think it wise to try to prepare her?"

"I considered it, but I wasn't sure what to say, and I wasn't sure how my son, Duncan would react. They've been raised alongside each other their whole lives."

"Whoa," whispered Duncan, eyes growing rounder and rounder, "you don't think you're . . . sick, do you?"

"Of course not," snapped Hyacinth under her breath, "they'd have to have run tests on me somewhere, and I'd know if they did."

"Not if you were a baby. What if you were a baby and they found out you had an illness that wouldn't kick in until you turned eleven?"

"Shut up."

"Well, if it's all the same to you, I'd quite like to take her for her supplies today, that way she has more time to prepare."

"I suppose I'd better call her down then."

There was a faint chuckle. "I don't imagine, Ms. Evans, that that will be necessary. She's been listening in for a minute or two now. Haven't you, Miss Potter?"

If possible, Duncan's eyes grew even rounder. _Busted._

"You'd better get down there," her whispered, pushing her shoulder.

She scrambled up before running down the steps in an altogether uncivilized manner, eyes darting between her aunt and this stranger who knew her by name.

She was really hoping she didn't have an illness.

"Miss Potter," said the visitor, "I'm afraid we have quite a lot of things to discuss, and presently, a condensed amount of time in which to do so, so let us get the important things out of the way. I am Professor McGonagall, I am a teacher at Hogwarts, which is a school you shall be attending come September."

 _Oh. That_ was all it was? A _school?_ Strange, to be sure, that Aunt Petunia hadn't _mentioned_ she was going to a new school, and certainly a different one from Duncan, but after all, Duncan would be transferring to an all-boys academy in the next couple of years, so maybe Hogwarts was some type of all-girls school. It was a strange name, to be sure, but at least it was the strange name of a _school_ and not a _terminal disease._

"Oh, okay. It's very nice to meet you."

"I was not quite finished. Hogwarts is a school of _magic."_

Hyacinth laughed. Now she saw. This was all some elaborate prank Aunt Petunia had pulled -perhaps to get her in a jovial mood for her birthday next week. This was a neighborhood woman, one Hyacinth had merely yet to meet, or one of Aunt Petunia's friends from a social club, or something, who had a sense of humor, and whom her aunt had been able to convince to prank her.

Well, Aunt Petunia had certainly got her.

"No, Hyacinth, this isn't a joke," Aunt Petunia said quietly, and so, Hyacinth's world shifted forever.

"Wait, what?"

"You are a witch, dear," supplemented Professor McGonagall. "You were born with a trait that allows you to manipulate seen and unseen forces in ways that others cannot, which is more commonly referred to as 'magic.'"

"Oh," said Hyacinth, and if this was a joke, this was taking it a little bit far, and if not, it was starting to explain a great number of strange coincidences that she had experienced, like the time she stopped herself from dropping a pitcher Aunt Petunia's homemade pink lemonade all over the floor and spilling everywhere, and it had simply _hovered_ in midair for a moment before she'd had the sense to grab hold of it. And why once, when she'd scraped herself playing dodgeball with some kids in school, she'd woken up the next morning with not even a scar left, having agonized about the pain and how ugly scrapes were the night before.

"I have your acceptance letter to Hogwarts right here," said the professor, producing a yellowish envelope from within her pockets.

Hyacinth tore into it eagerly.

She could hardly believe her eyes. There, in front of her, was an acceptance letter to a _magic_ school, with a list of supplies she'd need as a first-year student to do _magic_.

"Is this really real?"

"I can prove it, if you remain skeptical," said McGonagall, before promptly turning into a cat.

A tabby cat, in particular. Hyacinth couldn't imagine why on earth she was paying attention to that.

A woman had just _turned into a cat._

She turned back into a human, smiling. "Do you believe now, Miss Potter?"

Hyacinth turned towards Aunt Petunia with confusion. "You . . . knew?"

"Hya, love, it wasn't something I kept from you lightly."

Hyacinth decided she could feel angry that she'd been kept in the dark, or she could go wherever this professor intended to take her to obtain her _magical school supplies_ , and being angry just wasn't worth it.

"Okay. So . . . are we going to get these supplies now?"

"Indeed."

Professor McGonagall led her to a discreet corner of London that turned out to be home to a colorful hidden world called Diagon Alley, where the professor promised all of her supplies could be found.

But first, McGonagall had explained, they would need to visit the magical bank known as Gringotts, where the Potter family vault resided, for the purpose of obtaining some wizarding money for Hyacinth.

Hyacinth had merely stared in shock and awe at the heaps and heaps of gold in her vault.

"Um, terribly sorry, Professor McGonagall, but a few questions are occurring to me right about now. Aunt Petunia always told me that my parents were police, and they both died in an altercation with a drug lord, but now I'm starting to think -well, my parents weren't drug lords, were they? Or else how did they get so much money?"

The professor made a choking sound. "No, Miss Potter, it would seem that your aunt told you something nearing the truth. In a sense your parents _were_ police officers, just of the magical sort. James and Lily Potter were what we call 'Aurors,' who worked as agents for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. And in truth, they died protecting you, and fighting a very terrible man. As for the money, your father comes from quite a wealthy family."

Hyacinth absorbed this new information. "Did you . . . know them?"

A small, sad smile. "Quite well. I had the pleasure of having them both as students of my House at Hogwarts, Gryffindor."

"Houses? Like, categories?"

"Yes. You will find four of them at Hogwarts: Gryffindor, which I am Head of, Slytherin, Ravenclaw, and Hufflepuff."

"Which one will I be in, Professor?"

"That is not known yet. We have a special method for Sorting our students into what House they best fit. For now, gather some of this -about three or four stacks of the Galleons, the gold ones, should suffice."

As they left, McGonagall explained to her the system of British wizarding money, which seemed convoluted, but Hyacinth chose not to comment.

Then, it was time for the first stop on their agenda, which was robe-fitting at a place called Madam Malkin's.

"Wait here for just a moment, if you would," said Professor McGonagall, "I've some very private business to conduct, and you're in good hands with Madam Malkin. I will return shortly."

Hyacinth wait for a few minutes in the front of the shop, before she was escorted off by an attendant to a room marked "Ladies", which had some dressing rooms and then free space for measurements. Currently, there was only one other girl there getting measured, a girl with platinum blonde hair and dainty features.

"Hogwarts, eh?" Began the girl, turning her head as much as the attendant would allow to look at Hyacinth.

"Yes," said Hyacinth, not quite knowing what else to say, or how witches were supposed to talk to each other.

"It's my first year as well," said the girl, "I know I'm going to be in Slytherin, Father says all the Malfoys have been for generations. I'd be grateful as long as I'm not in Hufflepuff, could you _imagine?_ I suppose Ravenclaw wouldn't be _terrible,_ but Father would absolutely _kill_ me if I got into Hufflepuff, and probably Gryffindor too. What about you?"

"Well," said Hyacinth, desperately wishing Professor McGonagall had explained to her what the _difference_ between the Houses were so she might have some footing in this conversation, but alas. "I suppose I'm glad to be going at all."

"Well, _of course,_ but -wait a second, you're not _Muggleborn_ are you?" It was at that moment precisely that they first regarded each other directly, and as Hyacinth's head turned, her bangs flew to the side and just _there_ , a small scar in the shape of a lightning bolt could be seen.

The beginnings of disgust that had shown on this girl's face faded into something more like pure shock.

"What?" said Hyacinth, trying to figure out what "Muggleborn" could have meant.

" _No,_ " breathed the girl, "You're Hyacinth Potter. You're the Girl Who Lived."

"Well, I know I'm Hyacinth Potter, but I'm not quite understanding the second bit there?"

"You don't _know?_ I'd heard stories you were raised by Muggles, but to _actually_ hand you over to somewhere lacking any magical protectors at all . . . they must have been _mad."_

It was at this moment that Professor McGonagall made her return, just as her measurements were finished and her robes (the fastest she'd ever received tailor-made clothing, although, admittedly, she didn't often receive it in the first place) were handed to her.

"Miss Potter," she said with a hardness in her voice, "Are you ready to go? We still have quite a lot of ground to cover, so to speak."

"Oh, sure," she said, and then gave the blonde girl a confused goodbye.

"Professor," said Hyacinth, "that girl in the shop . . . she called me something strange, and I wondered if you would know what that was about?"

Professor McGonagall merely checked to make sure that Hyacinth's bangs were once again covering her scar, and then spoke in a low tone. "I heard that part of your conversation with Miss Malfoy. You are called The Girl Who Lived by many. In truth, you are something of a . . . celebrity in our world. The night your parents were murdered, Miss Potter, they were killed by a powerful and evil man named Voldemort, also referred to as He Who Must Not Be Named. He came to your home looking for _you,_ and killed your parents trying to get to you. There is a curse called the killing curse, which nothing can block if fired upon you, and which was used to murder both your parents, and then you. The reason you're famous, Miss Potter, is that you are the only person in living memory who has survived the curse. Not only that, but it rebounded off you, and killed the terrible Dark Lord Voldemort instead."

That was _heavy._ Hyacinth wasn't sure how to answer that, and so simply chose to mull it over as they approached a shop called "Ollivander's."

She was led in, wherein she discovered countless rows and columns of small boxes lining the shelves, and an oldish looking man with wild gray hair.

In the end, she had an eleven-inch wand of rowan wood and phoenix feather core. She wasn't sure what that was supposed to mean, but she was just in awe of the red and green sparks that had come from the wand when she waved it.

They also stopped at a bookshop, where she picked up all her books, and then -

"Would you like to visit the pet emporium, Miss Potter?"

Well, Aunt Petunia said nothing that couldn't live in a cage or a tank, and the paper had said she could have a cat, an owl, or a toad. She supposed an owl could live in a cage, at least sometimes, and Aunt Petunia had said nothing about _magical_ pets that could live in cages.

"Yes," she answered definitively, causing Professor McGonagall to lead her to what was essentially just a magical pet store, but _so much more interesting._

Owls hooted from inside cages, kittens mewled, and she could vaguely hear the sound of croaking in the background. There were other things, fish tanks, and rat cages, and things she didn't know the name for which must have been exclusive to the magical world.

McGonagall consulted a large, ornate clock above the counter. "You may take some time to browse, Miss Potter, it would seem we've made good time for the day."

She walked slowly around the shop, examining all sorts of fascinating things, until she came to the end of an aisle, and heard a soft but persistent mewl coming from just around the corner. Inside a cage of thin metal, there resided what appeared to Hyacinth in all respects as an entirely ordinary kitten. It had fluffy black fur with white flecks through it, and wide green eyes, and she supposed if she could get a _big_ enough cage she might avoid Aunt Petunia's displeasure until she went off to Hogwarts . . .

Decision made, she called the attention of a shop attendant, who was tailed closely by McGonagall.

"What about this cat, Professor?"

Hyacinth was just taking a guess here, but she theorized that the professor's pleased smile might result from her apparent affinity for cats (given the fact that she could become one at will).

"That is more than just a mere cat," said Professor McGonagall, "in fact, it is Half-Kneazle, a particularly useful feline species."

"Useful for what?"

"Kneazles are good at detecting suspicious people," explained the shop girl with a grin, "They're quite sly."

"It will make a fine and practical companion," said McGonagall.

Promptly, Hyacinth was given a pamphlet for care on half-Kneazle kittens, a rather large cage to carry her in for the time being, and a comb ("Her fur can get rather unmanageable otherwise").

"Ah . . . one more thing, Miss Potter," said McGonagall as they left the shop, Hyacinth carrying the kitten along with all her other supplies."Please keep in mind that those under the age of seventeen are _not_ permitted to perform magic outside of Hogwarts, so do not be tempted to try your hand at anything you may read about in your textbooks. In fact, I would recommend you leave your wand in its box until it is time to board the train. Speaking of which, here is your ticket, and, I cannot emphasize this enough, _do not be late."_

Message received, McGonagall took Hyacinth back to Privet Drive.

Duncan was waiting with something akin to awe on his face, questions already bubbling at the lips, when Aunt Petunia entered the room and screeched at the sight of the cat.


	2. Of Girls Bookish and Bloodthirsty

Hyacinth's birthday was quiet, sweet, and happy. her and Duncan had always been best friends, so she didn't inviting any of her school-friends, because in her mind they didn't really count anyway.

So she spent her birthday with her, Aunt Petunia, and Duncan.

And Venus, of course, her half-Kneazle kitten, who had a tendency to lay next to Hyacinth's ankles, or on her lap if convenient.

Aunt Petunia had bought her a lovely, vintage, leather bound journal. "For your adventures at school, hm?"

. . .

On the day that Hyacinth was to board the Hogwarts Express, she realized she was expected to board on a nonexistent platform.

"No, dear," said Aunt Petunia, whom Hyacinth realized must have seen Lily do this in her youth, "it sounds loony, but you've got to run through that pillar just there. Magic. Now, be good at school, and write frequently, hm? I'll see you for Christmas. I love you."

Duncan shoved his hands in his pockets. "You'd better tell me everything cool and weird that happens, okay?"

"You too," she said, and the two cousins who had grown up more as siblings (more as twins) than anything regarded each other, each one trying to imagine how on earth they would survive. Duncan contemplated the immeasurable _boredom_ he faced without Hyacinth, and she imagined how terribly lonely it would be, to take on an entirely new world without her best friend.

She left, then, and pushed her cart straight into a pillar, somehow, despite all odds, managing to come out onto the other side of it, to a place that had not existed to her prior to that moment.

Instantly, she was surrounded by the sights and sounds of witches and wizards bustling about. He saw owls, cats, and toads alike, she saw one girl who must've been sixteen or seventeen changing her hair colors apparently at will, she saw an _enormous_ family of redheads, and then through the chaos she saw a pinpoint of familiarity,bit at least a lack of complete strangerness.

It was the girl from the shop (a dim voice in the back of her mind told her that she'd called her family "Malfoy", and so had McGonagall, but she had no indicator as to the girl's first name, and randomly screaming the surname of a girl you'd only met once seemed unwise in a new surrounding, so she pushed her way onto the train and found an empty compartment.

Hyacinth had just been sitting for a moment, when she was found by a skinny girl with light brown skin, a smattering of freckles that indicated she'd spent the whole summer in the sunshine, and a high ponytail of thick and tightly-packed curls.

"Hello," said the girl, "would you mind if I sat with you?"

"No, go ahead," said Hyacinth, waving to the empty seat across from her. The girl smiled and sat, introducing herself as Hermione Granger.

Hyacinth contemplated on whether or not it would be wise to reveal her name, but figured there was only so long she could hide it anyway.

"Hyacinth Potter."

"Not as in _the-"_ Hermione abruptly cut herself off, and Hyacinth was sorely tempted to reply "No, the _other_ Hyacinth Potter."

But all she said was "It would seem so."

"I've read all about you, have you any idea how many books you're in?"

It was a thought that hadn't occurred to her, although it made sense if she'd apparently defeated this Dark Lord as an infant. Hm. Looking back, that would be a hard legacy to live up to.

"No," she answered honestly.

"A _lot,_ " clarified Hermione, who then listed several books that Hyacinth would never remember, and then began talking about Hogwarts Houses.

"Which one do you think you'll be in?"

Hyacinth felt heat sneak up her cheeks. It was lucky her skin was brown enough to hide most of it. "I, uh, I don't really know much about them."

Hermione saw this as absolutely no problem, and took the opportunity to tell her everything she knew.

"Loads of people seem to think Gryffindors are the good guys and Slytherins are the bad guys, because Gryffindor represents bravery and honor and Slytherin ambition and cunning," she began, "but I think it's a little more complicated than that. Hufflepuff is about loyalty and determination, and Ravenclaw is about curiosity and wisdom. At least, that's what I know."

Hyacinth contemplated. "I don't know," she said finally, because she didn't know. "You?"

Hermione shrugged. "I suppose Ravenclaw would make sense, but I wouldn't mind Gryffindor."

"Not Hufflepuff or Slytherin?"

"I don't know, I agree with the virtues of those Houses, but I think my primary values align more with Gryffindor or Ravenclaw."

Hyacinth nodded thoughtfully, wondering where she would end up.

That was when Malfoy found them.

"Hello, Potter," she said cordially, "it occurred to me after our meeting that I did not formally introduce myself. Drisana Malfoy."

"Well," said Hyacinth, "I'd return the favor, but you already know my name."

" _Everyone_ knows _your_ name _,"_ retorted Drisana Malfoy, "and who are you?"

Hermione appeared suddenly very cautious. "Hermione Granger."

"Granger? I'm not familiar with the name," said Drisana in a polite but cold tone.

Hermione shrugged, and that was when something clicked for the blonde.

"You're a _mu-_ Muggleborn!"

"Yes, and what about it?"

Drisana frowned, and turned towards Hyacinth. "Well, regardless, Hyacinth, I'm sitting down a few compartments with some people you might be interested in meeting, if you'd like to stop by later." And then she left.

Hyacinth turned towards Hermione. "What was that about? What's Muggleborn?"

Hermione was having trouble speaking, and Hyacinth suspected her throat was choked up. "Muggleborn means your parents were both Muggles, or non-magical. Malfoy's what they call a pureblood, meaning her parents were wizards, and their parents were wizards, and so on and so forth for many generations, although some families are considered less "pure" than others. Hers is one of the purest on record, so they consider themselves quite above everyone else."

"Oh," said Hyacinth. She wasn't sure what that made _her,_ because both of her parents were wizards, but her mother's parents were Muggles, and-

"In case you're wondering," interrupted Hermione, "you're considered a half-blood, because your mother was Muggleborn."

Oh. Hermione must have done a whole lot of reading.

"That doesn't seem right," said Hyacinth. "This concept of blood purity. Seems a lot like racism."

Hermione and Hyacinth, who both had experienced their fair share of racial prejudice, Hermione being black and Hyacinth being half-Indian, shared a silent moment of bonding.

"It adds up to about the same thing. That was pretty much the main point of the last wizarding war, the one which you put an end to."

Yes, this legacy would prove quite difficult to live up to.

Hyacinth ended up buying some candy for them to split, and they marveled together at the chocolate frogs that leapt around if you didn't eat them fast enough.

"It probably won't be longer than another hour or two," said Hermione some time later, "We probably ought to get changed."

Apparently, there were two sets of bathrooms on the train, so Hermione went in one direction and Hyacinth the other.

She only got a few compartments down when she heard a voice.

"Potter! Finally come to join us?"

It was Drisana Malfoy.

She had some rather particular thoughts about Drisana Malfoy's wizarding racism, or blood purism, whatever it was called, but she decided it might not be tactful or conducive to voice them at this particular time, so she merely entered the compartment.

"Everyone," said Drisana, "This is Hyacinth Potter." One by one, Drisana introduced her companions to Hyacinth. Daphne Greengrass, Pansy Parkinson, Blaise Zabini, and Theodore Nott.

Hyacinth was directed into the seat directly across from Drisana, and next to Daphne.

"Finally ditch the mudblood?" asked Pansy Parkinson with a snicker. Hyacinth had not heard this word before, she did not know it, but she had a feeling it was not good.

"I'm not familiar with that terminology," Hyacinth said absently as Daphne showed her her fingernails which her mother had taken her to get done special for the occasion; they were black with silver and green jewels and a small metal dragon on each hand that hopped lazily from one fingernail to the next. Interesting, but Hyacinth had not always been the girliest of girls.

"It _is_ true, then?" asked Blaise. "You were raised by Muggles?"

"Well, really just one. Not plural."

There was a collective gasp of shock and horror.

"It must have been dreadful," remarked Daphne.

Hyacinth shrugged. "Not necessarily, but I do wish I'd known about magic earlier."

They nodded sympathetically, and it occurred to Hyacinth what a strange world she'd been dropped into.

"Anyway," said Drisana, reminded of the original topic at hand, "Mudblood's a word for Muggleborns."

"Not something you ought to say to their faces, though," added Theodore Nott with a tone of neutrality, "it's taken quite offensively."

"It sounds to me like something you ought not to say at all," said Hyacinth, removing all traces of hardness or coldness that might have been tempted to enter her voice.

Daphne laughed, and Pansy pursed her lips, and Drisana said only, "You've spent far too much time in the company of Muggles."

Hyacinth decided, then, that she probably should be getting back to Hermione, and realized with a start that if Hermione found her here, it would send a particular kind of message that she did not want the bookish girl receiving about her.

"If you'll excuse me," said Hyacinth, "I really must be getting changed."

When she had successfully found the bathroom, she changed into her Hogwarts uniform and made her way back to her and Hermione's compartment.

The other girl was already waiting, and looked up at her, and began talking about this boy Neville who'd lost his toad, and this other red-haired boy named Ron who'd been helping him look and stopped by to ask if they'd seen it.

Soon enough, they arrived at the magical castle that they'd be calling home for the foreseeable future.

It was even better than Hyacinth had imagined, and very soon, she found herself in a line of first years waiting to be Sorted, by what was evidently a magical hat that could read their minds. Alright. Hyacinth figured it probably wasn't the weirdest thing this school had to offer.

So she watched. Some of her classmates were Sorted as soon as the Hat touched their heads, and others took up to around five minutes.

Hermione Granger went to Gryffindor. Daphne Greengrass went to Slytherin. There seemed to be a relatively balanced amount of students going to each House. Nott went to Slytherin, so did Malfoy and Parkinson, and then there was a pair of twin girls that got split up; one went to Gryffindor, the other Ravenclaw, and then it was _Hyacinth's_ turn, and the whole school hushed when McGonagall called "Hyacinth Potter," in her stern voice, and Hyacinth strode forward to the rickety old stook that appeared on the verge of collapse, somehow managing to trust it to hold her.

 _Potter, eh?_ said the Hat, into her mind. _Well now, what do we have here? Hm . . . courage plenty, but the mindfulness to show restraint. Hm, now_ this _is interesting. You've got a rather interesting dichotomy. The passion for justice, and the ambition to believe_ you _can change the world._

 _Someday,_ replied Hyacinth _I hadn't intended to get to it right now._

 _No, but you did intend to start preparing now. So where to put you? That moral backbone would make good for Hufflepuff, but Slytherin would teach you to utilize that ambition._

There was a long moment of silence.

 _Well,_ said the Hat, _I don't suppose_ you _have a preference?_

Hyacinth thought back to what Hermione had said. People thought Slytherin were the bad guys, but it was more complicated than that. She wondered if she really wanted to be in the company of the blood purists from Drisana's compartment, all of whom, it seemed, would be in Slytherin. She thought about all the things Aunt Petunia had said about how you get influenced by the company you keep.

 _Then maybe I can be an influence . . ._ she thought, and the Hat chuckled.

 _Do you truly believe so, Hyacinth Potter? That you can change the prejudices that have been fed to them since they were in diapers?_

Faintly, a remnant of a poem from a book Aunt Petunia used to read to her and Duncan echoed in her mind. Perhaps it had stayed with her all those years, for this precise moment.

 _Anything can happen, anything can be._

 _Perhaps so. Then I suppose we have our answer._

"SLYTHERIN!"

Sounds of surprise echoed across the Great Hall as McGonagall removed the Hat from Hyacinth and she found her way down to the Slytherin table, where Drisana Malfoy was giving her the most pleased smile possible. She ignored the mutters and expressions of disbelief coming from the Gryffindor table.

"See," said Drisana to Pansy, "I knew she belonged with us, truly."

Hyacinth watched as the rest of the students were Sorted, until they finally came to Zabini, who was, of course, sent into Slytherin.

And then she ate, hoping she hadn't made a mistake.

That first night in Slytherin was an illuminative experience. Of Slytherin girls in her year, there was she, Drisana, Daphne, Pansy, a girl named Tracey Davis, and a girl named Athena Rosier.

Apparently, they'd all known each other since birth, so they were all very interested in knowing more about Hyacinth.

There wasn't much to tell, in her opinion, but they questioned her about _everything_ -her favorite colors, what she liked to do, how did the Muggles treat her, etc.

In the end, she ended up sitting on the floor in front of Daphne's bed while she braided her hair, with Drisana and Athena sitting on Daphne's bed and the others on Tracey's bed across from her.

"Well," said Pansy, "Mother's thinking about doing an expansion on the manor, she wants a South Wing so she can build a proper ballroom and a line of guest rooms."

"That would be very fine," said Drisana. "My mother wants to install a swimming pool for this summer."

"That would be so much fun!" said Daphne excitedly. "Father's been thinking about an aquarium, he wants to surprise Tori with it for Christmas." (Hyacinth had learned that Daphne had a younger sister called Astoria, who would be joining them at Hogwarts the following year).

Hyacinth thought of Christmas, she thought of going home to Aunt Petunia and Duncan, and realized with a start that she'd forgotten to write home. McGonagall had told her the school had owls she could borrow to send letters. She'd have to write one tonight and take it up to the owlery tomorrow.

And then she realized it must be very commonplace to grow up in exquisite mansions if you were from a pureblood family. Come to think of it . . .

But there was no way to answer that question now, so she filed it somewhere in the back of her mind.

That was when a third-year girl came in, quietly but urgently informing them that Professor Snape was holding a House meeting in the common room.

They filed out, Daphne hissing at Hyacinth to _wait just a second_ while she finished tying the elastic around the end of her masterpiece.

There stood Professor Snape, who would be her Head of House and Potions Professor. He had an unpleasant expression, and greasy hair.

"I have come to impart the rules for Slytherin House, for those new students," his eyes flicked to where Hyacinth and Drisana stood side by side, "and those who may need a _reminder,"_ here his eyes stopped purposefully in one place, where a brief and muffled snicker could be heard from, "there are not many, but you will regret it if you break them. One, you are _not_ to slack, nor underperform in _any_ class, if you are in absolutely _dire_ need of assistance, _ask someone for it_ , but I make it a point that Slytherin is known for at least passing competence. Two, understand _now_ that the rest of this school will be largely against you. You have the misfortune of a rather unpleasant set of stereotypes. Make no mistake, the other Houses _will_ throw you to the dogs. Because of this, I expect a united House, at least outside of this room. Whatever petty disputes you may have with one another must not leave these walls, otherwise our House becomes nothing but the viper's nest the others already imagine it to be."

There was absolute silence.

"You are dismissed."

That night, Hyacinth found herself (along with most of the other girls) writing her first letter home from Hogwarts.

 _Dear Aunt Petunia,_

 _Hogwarts is good. I've been Sorted into House Slytherin, do you know anything about the difference between the Houses? It seems like there's some serious competition between them._

 _The other Slytherins in my year are nice, and I have a friend I met on the train who got Sorted into Gryffindor. Our Head of House is a man named Professor Snape. He's a little weird, but not bad._

 _Love,_

 _Hyacinth._

Then she wrote to her cousin.

 _Duncan_

 _Hogwarts is super cool. Remember how I mentioned something about how there were different Houses, but I didn't know anything about them? Well, I'm in House Slytherin. A lot of people seem to think it's for evil people, but it's really about ambition (amongst other things). That Malfoy girl I met when McGonagall took me school shopping is in the same House._

 _Also, wizards have their own specialized form of racism, but not to worry, I've comprised a plan to dismantle it as we speak._

 _-Hya_

Satisfied, she sealed them and gave them to Drisana, who had graciously offered Hyacinth to borrow use of her Eagle owl.

Venus had been stalking the castle grounds since their arrival, and it was only as Hyacinth was settling into bed for the night that she made her reappearance. The kitten settled herself at the foot of her bed and watched her with glowing green eyes that would give a slow blink every once in a while, until Hyacinth drifted into sleep.


	3. Of Things Unknown and Unwelcome

Hyacinth was shaken awake by Tracey, with a quick "c'mon, Hyacinth, you don't want to be late."

The Slytherin dorms each had a bathroom attached, within which were five shower stalls. Luckily, Athena woke up unusually early and had already showered, so Hyacinth didn't have to wait, and she walked down to breakfast with Drisana, who had been waiting for her. Venus trotted along at their heels.

"She's very lovely," admired the Malfoy girl, "I suppose I see now why you preferred her to an owl."

Drisana was very strange, and obviously held certain prejudices, but Aunt Petunia had always told her that you'd catch more flies with honey than vinegar.

So she ignored the obvious, and listened at breakfast while Drisana told her everything she knew about Hogwarts.

And then Hyacinth decided she would have to find out for herself what Hogwarts was all about.

Their first class was Charms with Professor Flitwick. Hyacinth achieved what she thought was "passing competence" at floating a feather.

Then, there was a Gryffindor-Slytherin study hall in one of the unused classrooms, which was being monitored by a fifth-year prefect. Hyacinth wasn't sure how much they really had to study yet, given that they'd had exactly one (1) class so far, but Hermione was already furiously scribbling away on a roll of parchment by the time Hyacinth even _walked in_.

On impulse, Hyacinth took the seat next to Hermione, who looked mildly surprised.

"Hello, Hermione. How was your first class?"

"Transfiguration. First essay is due Monday. It's about the basics of the subject, so don't worry."

Hyacinth slanted her eyes toward Hermione's parchment, which was already three paragraphs deep, but considered the possibility that Hermione was an overachiever.

Drisana and the other Slytherins walked in just a moment later, and Drisana frowned the same way she had upon discovering Hermione's parentage.

Hyacinth felt her stomach turn, thinking Drisana was about to say something very troublesome indeed.

Instead, she sat down on Hyacinth's other side, the others taking up empty seats all around them.

"Hyacinth," said Athena Rosier, who had sleek brown hair that fell in waves around her shoulders, "You simply _must_ play your violin for us tonight."

Hyacinth was surprised. "Perhaps," she said, "although I was really planning on spending some time in the library with Hermione."

She felt Hermione's eyes on her.

Pansy cackled, and then was quickly hushed by the prefect in charge of them. "The _library?_ It's the first day of school, Potter, what could you possibly have to study?"

"Well, some of us have some catching up to do. Do I _look_ like I want to be the target of Snape's everlasting hatred?"

"You might not be able to avoid that," muttered Pansy with a sideways glance, before she was lightly slapped by Athena.

"What?"

Pansy took this moment to make her debut as an extraordinarily informative individual. "Well, it's no secret he had it in for-"

" _Pansy, time and place!"_ hissed Drisana.

"Malfoy," said Hyacinth, replacing the hardness in her voice with a tone of playful sternness, "Tell me. Now."

"Well," she said, taking a moment.

Next to Hyacinth, Hermione was staring intently at her parchment, but no one was fooled.

Drisana collected her thoughts. "Professor Snape and your parents were all in the same year at Hogwarts, but, um, as you know, your father was in Gryffindor, and he and Professor Snape didn't exactly _get along._ "

That could mean any number of things, but Hyacinth decided that would most likely be all she got out of the Malfoy girl.

Well, at least now she _knew._ She shuddered, imagining with horror what it would've been like to walk into his class without _knowing_ that kind of thing, it was bad enough he was her Head of House.

"That just means," began Hyacinth after a minute or two of awkward silence among the Slytherin girls, "that I _definitely_ need to study, and _definitely_ need to mind my P's and Q's."

Drisana leaned towards Hyacinth conspiratorially. "Listen, Potter, you really ought to mind the company you keep while you're at it."

Her spine stiffened then, and she thought of a hundred thousand ways she might like to respond to that, and she saw Hermione go entirely still beside her.

She wanted to say many things, but she had devised a slow but sure scheme to rid her generation, or at least her year, of this ridiculous prejudice, and so she said only one, in this moment.

She said, "Not to worry, Malfoy, I'm quite cautious of my companions."

Drisana was just smart enough to pick up on the double meaning. She smiled.

"I was wondering when your Slytherin would show itself." Satisfied, the platinum blonde turned the conversation towards other matters, like the newest python her father was introducing to the family's snake tank.

A very strange world indeed.

That night, after her first Herbology lesson, which Slytherin had with Ravenclaw, Hyacinth actually _did_ end up in the library with Hermione.

Hermione was helping her go through some of the beginning chapters in her textbooks and annotate for simplified understanding.

"D'you do this every year, or just for a magical school?"

Hermione smiled. "I _do_ read ahead in my textbooks, but I had so much to catch up on, I was so worried I would be so far behind everyone else -didn't you feel like that?"

She hadn't. It hadn't occurred to her.

By the time she crawled back to the Slytherin "dungeon" (in fact it was positively stuffed with creature comforts), it was just before curfew and she had a developed understanding (and notes) of at least the first two chapters of each of her textbooks. She decided it would be very wise to study regularly with Hermione Granger.

The girls, as well as Blaise and Theo, were occupying a space near the corner of the common room. Drisana, Daphne, and Athena were sitting next to each other on a couch, while Tracey laid across all three of their laps, and the boys occupied two chairs across. Pansy was laying down on the rug, flicking through a magazine that had moving pictures on the front.

"So," asked Drisana when she saw her, her gray eyes glinting silver, "how was your study session with the mudblood?"

"I feel much better prepared for class. Hermione is an exceptionally gifted student."

There was a look of pure shock on Pansy Parkinson's face. " _How?"_

"It's a known fact," offered a boy from nearby, named Crabbe, "mudbloods do terribly at Hogwarts, they know nothing about magic or our world -"

"Neither did I," said Hyacinth delicately, "but I will say that she has put a much more focused effort into _learning_ than I did."

"Well," said Drisana, "that won't last. They have a tendency to fall behind here, they're not meant for our world and so they can't keep up in it."

"They ought not to even waste the time with stealing our magic," muttered Pansy, returning to her magazine, "it isn't like they could ever do as much with it as we could have if we'd had _all_ of it."

"Wait just a minute," said Hyacinth, feeling rather as though prejudice had a pattern, and she was recognizing it, "You think Muggleborns are _stealing your magic?"_

"Well, how else would they get it?"

. . .

" _Genetics,_ that's how!" Hermione's skin was flushed as pink as it could be beneath the brown, and Hyacinth would not have been surprised to see steam shoot out of the other girl's ears.

"I thought as much."

"It must be a _gene,_ only they don't bother teaching _biology_ to witches and wizards!*

"Realistically," said Hyacinth thoughtfully, "they know it's not true. Deep down, some of them do, or at least the first ones to claim it knew. They just need somewhere to pin hatred."

Hermione nodded, taking a deep breath. "Their magic is becoming less powerful. They can't perform the great magics they once did, like when Hogwarts was built. Instead of looking inwards and wondering why, they look outwards and place blame. But how would I even go about _stealing magic?_ And, you'd think, if so many people really thought there were all these Muggles out there stealing people's magic, somebody would at least try to _stop it."_

 _They did try, though, didn't they?_ thought Hyacinth dryly, but she did not say it. She let Hermione run through it.

In the library, they were almost entirely alone. A few fifth-year and seventh-year students were scattered about, the kind of goal-oriented people who were already preparing for their O.W.L.s and their N.E.W.T.s. But of them, came no noise, and so it was of absolutely no surprise to anyone when Madam Pince sharply told them that if they could not keep their noise to themselves, they would be asked to leave.

Hermione hushed, but the rage still brimmed underneath the surface. Meanwhile, Hyacinth wondered just how remarkable Hermione Granger might turn out to be.

. . .

The first Transfiguration lesson of the year went about as well as could be expected, when you'd been warned in advance you would have homework assigned.

And so, Hyacinth found herself sitting in the Slytherin dorms on Wednesday night of the first week of school, writing a short but detailed paragraph on why it was a particularly _bad_ idea to Transfigure anything into food or drink, while Drisana ruminated the possibilities of their Potions lesson on Friday, and dreading the thought of History of Magic the next morning.

Apparently, Professor Binns was a ghost, and since obviously it would make perfect sense to let a ghost teach at a school of magic, nobody questioned this, only lamented his terrible boringness.

"Anyhow," said Pansy, "I can't wait til Professor Snape wipes that smug look off Granger's face."

There was a dark chuckle from Drisana. If you were looking, you'd have noticed Tracey's eyes slit, but, of course, no one was looking.

"He'll knock that stupid mudblood down a notch, that's for sure."

Hyacinth had known Hermione Granger for about three days now, and had one class with her, and the last thing Hermione Granger was was stupid.

But saying that _now_ wouldn't go anywhere useful, so she bit her tongue.

. . .

Two days later, she found herself in the Potions classroom. As was customary by now Hermione sat on one side of her, Drisana on the other. It was a strange, unspoken power of wills going between the two of them, but Hyacinth had resolved it would be much better to just them keep at it for now. Maybe they'd even get used to each other.

Her thoughts were paused when Snape entered. She hadn't seen the Potions Master up close since the Slytherin House meeting on the first day.

Visibly, he was a mess, but a mess that tried to be very intimidating, a little bit like cleaning up the kitchen after Aunt Petunia had dirtied every dish in the house in the process of cooking Christmas dinner.

Even though he was greasy and his appearance was appalling, and he apparently had some vendetta against her father, he was still technically her Head of House, so she made her best attempt to reserve judgment.

It was made considerably harder when Professor Snape declared war upon her forever by demanding that she answer questions within the first ten minutes of class.

Luckily, thanks to one Hermione Granger, she actually _did_ have the answers. Snape thinned his mouth in an expression that might have been pleased or might have been full of hatred, but she was finding it hard to tell.

"Told you," muttered Pansy when Snape was occupied chastising some Gryffindor boys.

"It's not your fault," Daphne murmured sympathetically.

Hyacinth chalked it up to another of life's injustice that she'd have to get around to solving one of these days, and continued with the essay Snape had assigned.

"Still," said Blaise from the seat in front of them, where he and Nott were side by side, "You'd think he might go easy on you, considering you're one of his own."

"Just goes to show you," spat one of the Gryffindor boys from nearby, "Slytherins have no loyalty."

"I didn't take you for a Hufflepuff, Weasley," drawled Blaise in response, "although maybe that's where you ought to be."

"I'd take Hufflepuff over _Slytherin_ any day," retaliated Weasley, whose face was becoming as red as his hair.

"That's good," remarked Athena in a smooth voice of summer silk, "because I find it unlikely that Slytherin would ever deem you worthy."

Weasley seemed quite inclined to take this as a compliment, and the bickering ceased when Snape walked towards them again.

"I suggest, Mr. Weasley," began the Potions Master, "that you follow the example of Ms. Granger, and at least have the grace to keep your mouth _closed_ if you choose to put yourself in a position near so many people you _obviously_ dislike."

Weasley shot them a collective glare, and turned back to his assignment.

Hermione was faintly blushing under the praise, backhanded though it was.

She thought she heard Weasley vaguely mutter "Teacher's pet," but she couldn't be sure.

. . .

Defense Against the Dark Arts wasn't exactly better.

Professor Quirrell was a lanky man, with eyes that shifted about the classroom. It might have been a nervous habit, but the rest of him appeared collected.

"You may imagine, as older students will tell you, that I will not be your professor for very long. This is likely true, but even so, I will do what I can while I am here." The professor smiled tightly. "Dueling. You all have heard of it. I confess, I don't believe it prepares one particularly well for realistic combat, but considering your age, dueling practice is about as far as I can get without the Headmaster making significant threats to my job and my person," here, a slight giggle ran through the class, "and so that is where we shall begin. Two students, how about Mister Weasley and . . . Miss Rosier."

Athena Rosier stood without hesitation, waves of brown waves trailing down her back as she made her way to the front of the classroom, paralleled by Weasley.

Hyacinth did not see this going anywhere good.

"But, Professor," said a Gryffindor boy Hyacinth did not recognize by name yet, "it's only the first day of Defense, how will they know how to duel?"

"Mr. Finnigan, the concepts of what a class is and what a teacher does seem to be lost on you. It works like this: I will mention what spells I consider appropriate use for today's lesson, and if they need to be taught how to use them, they shall ask. Although I suspect they are both quite familiar with a few offensive and defensive spells already." Here came a knowing smile, after which the Professor wrote a list of spells he deemed "harmless, more or less", and asked if anyone would have trouble casting them.

Nobody would, so he gave instructions for the duel to commence.

"It is finished when one of you is unconscious, or otherwise able to continue, or one of you voluntarily forfeits, although I don't foresee that one with this class."

Athena and Weasley both turned and stalked ten paces from each other, before whirling around. Athena, graceful as an antelope in the savannah, and fierce as a lion, turned in an artful manner before shouting " _STUPEFY!"_ At the same time, Ron was turning and shouting " _COLLOSHOO!"_

Athena's spell landed first, and Ron fell to the ground, but his spell still hit her, resulting in her shoes being stuck to the ground until the professor applied the counter-curse.

"An important lesson," said Quirrell after he had _ennervated_ Ron and both the students had taken their seats. "Miss Rosier won that, because she did not draw into multiple steps what she knew she could do in one, whereas Mister Weasley hoped to partially disable her so he could cast a successive curse. I do of course commend him for being strategic, but the best path is the quickest path. Who will be next?"

Next, there was the delightful spectacle of watching Pansy get knocked right out by a Gryffindor named Parvati Patil.

When it was Hyacinth's turn, she stood opposite to Daphne, and they both smiled at each other before dueling. In the end, Daphne hit her with a sleeping spell, but she was quickly awoken, and made her way back to her seat between Drisana and Hermione.

That was when the two of them were called to duel each other. Hyacinth wasn't sure if she'd like to laugh or cry, so she decided to roll with it.

Drisana was smirking. Hermione looked absolute.

In the end, Hermione was just faster, and the Malfoy heir fell to the ground with a thud that made the Gryffindors ecstatic, and the Slytherins furious.

There were more, but that was the important part, because it set the course for the rest of the day with the first-year Slytherins.

"Regardless," Blaise was saying placatingly as Drisana imagined creative ways for the Gryffindor girl to come to an end at dinnertime, "you'll always have one thing she _doesn't,_ and that's lineage."

Hyacinth eyed him, wondering how much he believed what he was saying. How much any of them truly _believed_ it.

She thought of her Muggleborn mother, imagined what the blood-purists of _her_ day must have been saying about _her,_ and grit her teeth, adding it to the growing list of her effective motivations to change the world.

Since it was Friday and now technically the weekend, Hyacinth took this as her opportunity to catch up on some sleep and made her way straight back to the Slytherin dorms after her study session with Hermione, and her bed in particular.

Unfortunately for her, sleeping in was not in the cards, because Drisana woke her at what any normal person would consider an _ungodly hour._

"Drisana?" she murmured through the thick haze of sleep at the blonde girl who had felt it a good time to _shove_ her into consciousness.

"C'mon, Hyacinth, I want to show you something, get out of bed."

"What time is it?"

"About six."

"I'd really rather not. It is far too early to handle whatever back-alley scheme you've concocted to murder my good friend from Gryffindor."

"Oh, ha ha, I actually thought I'd save that one for _next_ weekend, you see, the weather's meant to be nicer. _Come on Hyacinth you have the whole weekend to sleep."_

Deciding that her lack of cooperation would not serve to send the other girl away, Hyacinth stood, still clad in the oversized pajama pants she'd stolen from Duncan, and a blue t-shirt.

"Is this what Muggles _wear?"_ balked Drisana, who was conveniently dressed in her uniform.

"Only to bed, dummy, and I'll have you know this is incredibly comfortable."

"If you say so. Now come on, let's go."

Hyacinth slipped on a pair of boots and pulled a hoodie out of her trunk, because her bed might've had a warning charm, but the Slytherin dungeon was quite literally _next to the lake_ and also pretty close to _the bottom of the school_ and so had a tendency to get quite cold.

Drisana pulled her lips in disapproval at this piece of Muggle clothing as well, but decided not to waste the time, dragging Hyacinth by the wrist out into the common room, where _no one_ was awake yet, and seriously, where could this possibly be going. Her eyes drifted to the windows, where one could see fish and the occasional merperson swimming by, and once she'd seen the Great Squid, which had given her quite a fright.

But evidently lakegazing was not what the Malfoy had woken her up for, because she was dragged out of the common room and up the staircase that led out of the dungeons.

She was then led through what seemed like an impossible path around the school, and, after about forty minutes of incessant complaining coming from herself at having been woken up for whatever _wild goose chase_ Drisana was on, they arrived at the top of the Astronomy Tower.

"Now what? Please don't tell me you're going to kill me. You could've at least let me sleep in," said Hyacinth dryly.

"No, idiot."

" _Oh god_ , this isn't your suicide, is it? Because, Malfoy, I don't think I'm qualified to talk you down."

" _Shut up."_

"Well, what then?"

"Come here."

And so they were sitting, cross-legged next to each other, staring out at the night sky as it faded.

Hyacinth figured out, then, what was going on.

"Oh my _god,_ Malfoy, did you drag me all the way out here for a good _sunrise?_ How very _romantic,_ but I must confess, I really just see you more as a -"

"Die."

"Of course, I'm _flattered,_ but-"

"Drop dead. Catch a killing curse. Fall into the lake and get killed by the merpeople."

Hyacinth dissolved into giggles, and Drisana cracked a smile, saying "I was _trying_ to show you the sun rising over the lake, and the forest, but if you wouldn't like to see it, you may feel free to just go down to breakfast at any time."

"Shut up," said Hyacinth, very maturely, "I'll watch your stupid sunrise."

"Good, then shut up, because it's coming any minute now."

So they both shut up. A few minutes later, the sun began its crawl up into the sky, illuminating the grounds with a lovely orange glow as it went.

When the sunrise was about halfway free of the horizon, Drisana spoke.

"I wanted to talk to you, but it's hard to get a moment alone with anyone when you live in a dorm full of Slytherin girls."

Hyacinth said nothing.

"You're Slytherin in a different way though, I think," continued the platinum-haired girl, "In a more honorable way. Can I ask you something?"

"You can ask."

"Why do you study with Hermione Granger every day? Don't say because she's smart, because Theo is smart too, and so am I, and if you needed help, you could ask, but really, it's the first week of school, so much how help could you need."

Hyacinth paused, deciding it wouldn't be smart to point out that Hermione Granger was smarter than both Drisana _and_ Theo, and if she really did need help, she'd have her best bet with the Gryffindor.

"We're friends."

"You've only known each other for a week, though. You can't be _that_ close already."

"We're not, but we're still friends. I enjoy spending time with her."

"Hm."

They sat in silence as the sun crept further and further up.

"Can I ask you something, in return?"

"I suppose that's fair enough."

"Why do you hate her? You've also only known her for a week."

"Well, I thought _that_ was obvious."

"It is, but still."

Drisana Malfoy took a deep breath. "Father says that a Muggleborn is a Muggle who stole magic from a real witch or wizard, and that's the reason we can't do all the powerful, ancient magic we used to be able to do."

"How would a Muggle even go about stealing magic?"

Drisana appeared caught off-guard, as though she had not bothered to consider the question before.

"Well _I_ don't know, _I'm_ not the one that did it!"

Hyacinth decided a sunrise was no time to fight, and said nothing.

But the seed was there, and now Drisana would begin to wonder. It wouldn't be enough, not now, not yet, but it was a _start._

"How many times have you come up here this week?"

"Almost every morning. I missed it Tuesday, got confused by the staircases, but then I figured out a pattern."

"Why?"

"My mother told me I should make it up here for a sunrise or two, if I could, but once I'd seen it, I liked it too much to just see it once or twice." And then suddenly, as if in self-defense, "I haven't brought anybody else up here, though."

"I bet that's what you to say to _all the girls,"_ said Hyacinth dramatically.

"Yes, you've caught me in my clever plot to woo every girl in Hogwarts at the young age of eleven."

"Who did you bring yesterday?"

Drisana looked at her with a dead serious expression and said "Professor McGonagall."

They both laughed so hard that they would have fallen off the Astronomy Tower then, and that would have been the end of the Potters as well as the Malfoys, if not for the clever wards the professors had set in place to prevent that kind of unfortunate accident.

When the sun had finished it's rise-and-shine routine, Hyacinth suggested they go down to breakfast.

When they got there, they were met with inquiries as to where they'd been all morning.

"I had to speak with Professor Flitwick about help with the Charms assignment," answered Hyacinth smoothly, "and she came with me to make sure I didn't get lost in this madhouse you call a _school."_

And if, from that day, the two were a little bit closer, a little bit more concerned for each other, well, what else could you really expect from a sunrise bonding session?

Drisana Malfoy still had it out for Hermione Granger, though. Sunrises were limited like that.


	4. Of the Fool and the Hierophant

**A/N: There's a pretty long author's note at the end.**

Incidentally, that was also the day Hyacinth Potter received her introduction to Gryffindor Tower.

Now, there was a moderate level of activity that took place within the Slytherin common room. People played chess, truth or dare with a potion called Veritaserum which Hyacinth was informed forced the drinker to tell the truth, and a wizarding version of chicken that involved both parties wandering the castle past curfew together, and whoever ditched and ran back to the Slytherin dungeons first lost. There was also a fair amount of sarcasm, bickering, and particularly loud rap music, courtesy of a sixth-year who'd learned it from Muggle Studies, and managed to enchant a stereo that would work despite the magical interference. That one was particularly surprising within the den of Muggle-hating blood purists, but she figured it was something forbidden and therefore more enticing.

But all this was _nothing_ compared to the Gryffindor common room, which seemed to be in a constant state of party, at least for the weekend. Hyacinth was met with a certain amount of suspicion for her Slytherinity, but this was mostly negated by two factors: One, she _did_ defeat the Dark Lord; and two, she _was_ wearing Muggle clothing, so how bad could she really be?

And so it was with delight that she was introduced by Hermione to Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil, as well as Fred and George Weasley, who Hyacinth decided were much more fun to be around than their little brother.

Hermione Granger, for her part, seemed to be taking a day away from homework. Her hair was down from its usual high ponytail, and the curls danced about her face every time she turned her head. She was in a faded gray hoodie and a pair of jeans, and it was the most relaxed Hyacinth had seen her since they met.

Lavender and Parvati asked her an overload of questions about the Slytherin dungeon, and they seemed particularly interested in Hyacinth's haircare routine. She wasn't sure how to explain that it was entirely thanks to Daphne, who had bombarded her with about six different types of magical haircare products, saying "With hair as nice as yours, you have to keep it that way."

She had a feeling Daphne would make good friends with these two, but more than anything she was amused by the antics of the Weasley twins.

Fred and George considered themselves high-caliber pranksters, who were currently in the process of persuading Hyacinth to reveal the password to the Slytherin dungeons.

Unfortunately for them, Hyacinth considered this a particularly _bad_ idea, imagining the havoc the red-headed twins would wreak upon Slytherin if given the chance.

"What is the problem between our Houses, anyway?" she asked.

"Childish rivalry, more than anything," muttered Hermione darkly, "but the war thickened any and all dividing lines it could."

"Quite a _fun_ childish rivalry, if I do say so myself," offered George.

"And I and myself both say so," added Fred.

She thought she heard Hermione say "Myself and _I"_ under her breath, but wasn't sure. Just then, a load of seventh-year boys paraded in, carrying another seventh year boy above their heads, chanting "CAPTAIN WOOD! CAPTAIN WOOD! CAPTAIN WOOD!" About half of the common room joined in, the rest were too distracted by their own merrymaking.

"Ah, Quidditch," said Fred, being met with a blank expression of ignorance from Hyacinth, at which point Fred, George, about half of those seventh-year boys, and Captain Oliver Wood himself proceeded to explain to her in great detail and length just what exactly Quidditch was.

It sounded dangerous, but she was starting to see a pattern of danger and magic.

That was when there was a definite _pop_ in the bubble of fun she'd been having. Ron Weasley and a couple of the other Gryffindor first-year boys came in, and when he saw Hyacinth, his face turned sour. He stomped over with all the grace of a monster truck (not, she reflected, that he would have known what that was anyway).

"What are _you_ doing here?"

"Hatching my clever scheme to overthrow the entire House of Gryffindor by Christmas, _obviously."_

"Yeah, Ron," furthered Fred, "she's also been recruiting us to her evil cause to undermine all things good in the world."

"In that case, she must've been pretty confused when she took down Voldemort.," interjected Hermione, pushing it further with the kind of sly smile one might see on Drisana Malfoy.

"Yeah, that's why she's recruiting _us,"_ countered George, "To help her get the mischief and havoc back on track."

By this point, Ron was realizing he was being made a fool of, and chose to stalk away seething to the dorms.

"Okay, well now you _have_ to let us into the Slytherin dungeon," plead George, "we don't even need the password, just let us in once and that's all we need."

Hyacinth cracked, thinking it was only fair for helping her tease their little brother, not knowing about the Great House Prank War of 1963, and how this could very quickly snowball.

Hermione put her head in her hands. "This feels like a mistake, Hya."

"All in good fun," said the twins.

"If Snape skins any or all of you alive for this, I reserve any and all rights to say 'I told you so.'"

"What about the Headmaster?"

"Nah," denied Fred.

"He'd just shake a finger at us disapprovingly in front of McGonagall and Snape, and then give us a lemon drop and ten points for creativity," explained George.

Lavender and Parvati looked terribly excited, especially after they were sworn to absolute secrecy that they mustn't reveal who let Fred and George in.

* * *

At dinner that night, everything was normal. Athena was talking about starting a dueling club, but she'd need to get a prefect on board first to get authorization from Dumbledore. Blaise suggested Nymphadora Tonks, a seventh-year Hufflepuff who might help a sweet innocent first-year girl, even if she was a Slytherin.

There was a split second where Hyacinth thought _what kind of name is Nymphadora_ before she remembered that her name was Hyacinth.

"Isn't that the Metamorphmagus?" asked Tracey.

Drisana was staring pointedly at her plate, and Daphne lightly slapped Blaise on the arm and hissed _are you stupid_.

"Yeah," said Athena, "but maybe we should find someone else."

"No," Drisana said quietly, "I've heard she's a very good duelist, and she's going into the Auror program. You couldn't have a better leader in this school."

Tracey and Hyacinth locked eyes in confusion while everyone else was seeming very resistant to looking in Drisana's direction.

"Alright," said Athena, smiling, "I'll speak with her."

Blaise coughed, and Daphne found at least three new conversation topics.

Hyacinth just wanted to know what a Metamorphmagus was.

* * *

"Someone who can change their physical appearance at will, almost without limit as far as I know," answered Daphne later that night in the common room. Drisana had gone to bed early, claiming a headache.

"So why the awkwardness? Don't tell me there's a prejudice against Metamorphwhatevers too."

"There's not," said Theo, "But Blaise is, in fact, stupid. Drisana and Nymphadora Tonks are cousins."

"Oh? Do they not get along?" asked Tracey, who was a pureblood but from a common family, and almost as unaware as Hyacinth about certain things within the elitist pureblood circles.

"They don't know each other," answered Daphne, "Her mother Andromeda and Drisana's mother Narcissa are sisters, but Andromeda went and married a _Muggle,_ and she got disowned. It was a huge scandal, they only barely kept it out of the papers. Makes Drisana uncomfortable because, well, she'd _like_ to know her, she's just not permitted."

"She's not allowed to speak to half-bloods?" asked Hyacinth, a touch of chill in her voice.

"No," said Theo, "It's not considered _preferable,_ but she is allowed to have half-blood friends. Muggleborns would be an entirely different story, but anyways, it's not that Nymphadora's a half-blood, it's more of the fact that if people see them spending time together, they'll think the family's forgiven Andromeda, or accepted it."

Hyacinth imagined a world where she and Duncan did not live together, did not know each other, and were not permitted to, even though they went to the same school, just because of who one of their parents married. It sounded like agony, especially when you didn't have siblings. Which Drisana didn't.

"That's childish," she said.

"It would be unwise to say so too loudly," murmured Theo, before dropping to an even lower pitch, "but I agree."

At least not everyone in the world was _crazy._ Tracey chewed her lip like she was holding back on saying something, and Daphne pretended she hadn't heard either of them. Theo smiled wryly at her.

* * *

Mercifully, by 2am, there was no one in the Slytherin common room, so there was no one to see who granted the Weasley twins entrance.

"If this gets traced back to me," she warned them in a hushed voice, "So help me God I will end the pair of you like I did the Dark Lord." Ignoring the fact that she had no idea how she'd done that.

They nodded, but the grins were still plastered on their faces, so she gave them a good glare for effect, and sent them on their merry way as she crawled back into bed.

* * *

In the morning, chaos and mass hysteria.

Well, for starters, all the third-year Slytherin girls woke up bald. That was quite a problem for them, so there was a great deal of screaming and accusing. Additionally, all of the floors, from every dormitory and into the common room, were covered with Muggle plastic cups that refused to be cleared away, but would merely roll around into even bigger messes if one kicked them over or at all attempted to clean up. You can imagine the amount of clumsy students whose bodies and belongings went flying that morning. To top it off, and because it seemed that no one in Gryffindor had any grasp of what it meant to be subtle, a Muggle-style party banner had been hung up across the fireplace in the common room, with big red and gold letters spelling out 'SURPRISE!'. The true shame was that they had hung _that_ one up the old-fashioned way, but after the cup fiasco no one bothered trying to take it down.

It was hard for Hyacinth not to laugh, even as she maneuvered the cups to get dressed. It was only Sunday, so she didn't have to hurry anywhere, but just as she was entering the common room, a sixth-year prefect was showing Snape the damage. He spotted her before she could retreat back to her dorm and hide behind Athena and Drisana.

"Ah, Miss Potter, won't you join us? Mister Flint was just showing me the tomfoolery that has been brought into the Slytherin Dungeon. I don't suppose _you_ might have any plausible hypothesis explaining just what exactly took place?"

"Well, Professor," she began, making her voice as serious as she possibly could, trying to decide if this one pop culture reference was worth gambling her entire life, "it would appear that we've been hit by -no, we've been _struck_ by, a smooth criminal."

There was a pregnant pause, wherein Hyacinth saw her life flash before her eyes as Marcus Flint just stared at her dumbly, and no one spoke.

"I would hardly call the Weasley twins _smooth,_ " the Potions Master spat, "but that was well-timed even so. Ten points to Slytherin."

Hyacinth Potter had never felt so invincible in her entire life, even after finding out she blocked a killing curse as an infant.

Okay, so maybe Snape didn't hate her. That was probably only due to her being in Slytherin, but she'd take it. It worked for her.

Since all of her Slytherin friends were pureblood, and so none of them would have spun around their living room listening to Michael Jackson records and CDs, none of them could possibly understand. Hermione, for her part, was awestruck at Hyacinth's apparent immortality.

And Fred and George, well, they had detention due to Professor Snape's severe annoyance at having his eardrums nearly blown out by thirteen-year-old girls demanding hair growth potions _now_. But she _did_ notice Gryffindor had gained twenty points since last night.

Immediately, a revenge plot hatched in Hyacinth's mind. It wasn't that she felt particularly vengeful, but she did have _some_ House pride, even if she _was_ the one who let the lions in.

And so it was that Hyacinth Potter, Athena Rosier, and Blaise Zabini found themselves creeping through the halls at 5am three nights later (because the idea of being lucky enough for all of Gryffindor to be asleep before 3, even on school nights, was just as laughable as the idea of any of them being out of bed before seven).

"Er, and what if they just _scourgify_ this stuff away?" asked Blaise, carrying a back of various glitters and glitter glues which Hyacinth had requested Duncan to send her via owl _immediately._

"Well, theoretically they probably can," she said, "but the point will have been made."

"And what're the balloons for?" he asked as Athena rolled her eyes.

"They're a special Muggle kind that you fill with water, and then they pop when you put pressure on them," answered Hyacinth, "and it's harder to _scourgify_ water because water isn't considered dirty."

"Fighting fire with water," commented Athena with a dry laugh.

* * *

Well, the Gryffindors certainly were _surprised_ to wake up to water balloons surrounding them on all sides, and persistent green and silver glitter covering every inch of _everything._ Perhaps good-naturedly enraged would be more apt.

Most of them had soaking pant legs at the very least by the time they came down to breakfast, and Hyacinth thought she might've seen a brief smile from the Head of Slytherin.

"How long you figure before you get caught?" asked Tracey with a glance of anxiety towards Professor McGonagall.

"Never, if we're smart," countered Athena.

"And besides, if they do, then Snape'll be less likely to figure out who it was that let the Weasleys in," said Theo, side-eyeing the Girl-Who-Lived.

"I haven't the faintest idea what you're referring to," replied Hyacinth airily, sipping pumpkin juice.

Theo smirked, rolling his eyes, and pointed out that there weren't very many Slytherins who spent time in Gryffindor Tower.

"Well," reasoned Athena, "At least she made penance."

That was when they were interrupted by Snape.

"Miss Potter, I am required to inform you that the Headmaster would like to see you in his office, immediately following breakfast. The password is licorice. And don't make an embarrassment of your House," snapped the Potions Master before slinking away.

Theo tilted his head. "You've done it now."

"Obviously," Hyacinth muttered, "but where on Earth is Dumbledore's office?"

Flora Carrow, a second-year witch within earshot, offered to show her the way after breakfast. Apparently she needed an excuse to be late to Defense class.

Feeling a bit foolish, she said "licorice" to the stone gargoyle which allegedly guarded the office, and was pleasantly surprised when it leapt out of the way to reveal a spiral staircase that took her up to the Headmaster.

Dumbledore was sitting behind his desk when she entered, and she noticed that the room was filled with all manner of unusual things, most of which she didn't have a name for.

"Miss Potter, please, have a seat."

She sat.

"I imagine you know why I've called you here," began the Headmaster.

"No, sir, not at all," contradicted Hyacinth.

"Ah, it would seem the Weasley twins have corrupted you already."

"I've never met them."

"Yes, just like you've never let them into the Slytherin dungeon? And never filled Gryffindor Tower with glitter and enchanted water balloons?"

"Yes, just like that."

Dumbledore smiled, and there was a twinkle in his eye.

"Well, in any case, Miss Potter, I am requesting that you and the twins halt this before it gets out of hand."

"I have no idea what you're referring to, Headmaster."

"I suppose you won't mind passing it on to someone who does, then."

"Of course, sir."

"Oh, and, Miss Potter?" The Headmaster sounded almost hesitant.

"Yes, Headmaster?"

"You would do well to be mindful of those you associate yourself with."

"Oh, not you _too,"_ she groaned. Dumbledore appeared taken aback.

"Have you been given this advice before, Miss Potter?"

"Roughly a thousand times."

The Headmaster blinked.

"Well, then I suppose I don't need to warn you about the potential drawbacks of aligning yourself with some of your young Housemates."

"Wait, my _Housemates?"_

"Yes? Did you think I was referring to someone else?"

"I must withdraw my earlier statement. I have yet to receive this version of that advice. Please proceed, Headmaster."

The Headmaster inclined his head.

"Miss Potter, there's nothing wrong with Slytherin House. At its best, it is filled with dedicated, focused individuals, who frequently end up successful in their endeavors. However, you must understand that many of those you have been spending time with possess very poisonous ideals."

"I already know all about your wizarding racism, Headmaster."

"Does it not appall you?" asked Dumbledore, seeming appalled at the idea of Hyacinth not being appalled.

"I am very appalled."

"And yet, you tolerate it?"

"For a reason."

"Hm. I suppose I cannot expect much more than that out of a young Slytherin," he said, with an indulgent smile. Hyacinth returned the smile, because there was a certain mysterious charm about that weird old man, as though he was the kind of person you'd quite like to have as a grandfather. And to top the impression off, he offered her a lemon drop.

She took it, feeling the sour candy melt, as he told her she was free to get to class.

 **A/N: Just a couple of things, here at the end of Chapter Four: First, this story is supposed to balance between humorous and serious. I don't want anybody thinking it's about to veer completely off-track and turn into one of those fics written just to be as comical as humanly possible without any weight to it, even if this chapter got a little ridiculous (although, those are pretty fun, so no shade). Second, I'd appreciate it a lot if any of you that really seem to like the story so far could leave a review, even just a short one, telling me what you liked, what you might not have liked very much (honestly if something felt weird or off to you about the story, either A, it's intentional, or B, it felt weird to me too but I didn't know what to do about it) and what you might like to see explored in the future. Finally, I'd like you to be aware that I intend to make this a pretty long story, ideally spanning til seventh year, which is why I'm updating so frequently now -basically, when I get inspiration for a story, I have to write it as fast as possible before the inspiration leaves me.**

 **Anyway, I don't like to do too many long author's notes like this, so you won't see many more of them, and sorry if you're not somebody who likes them either and I just made you read that whole thing.**

 **Thanks for reading, and reviewing, if you do.**


	5. Of The High Priestess

That weekend, Hyacinth attended the first ever meeting of Athena Rosier's super-cool, super-exclusive, invite-only dueling club, led by one Nymphadora "Just Tonks" Tonks. Because Tonks was a Hufflepuff, she mandated that first-year Hufflepuffs be invited, and so it was only Slytherin and Hufflepuff first-years.

Hyacinth had sparred with Hannah Abbott, Justin Finch-Fletchley, Tracey, and Blaise so far. Now it was time for Athena. Hyacinth felt a shiver of nervousness run down her spine, because Athena was one of the best duelists in their Defense class, but she steeled herself. Athena met her in the middle of the mat with a sly smile and a wink, before they walked ten paces apart from each other.

Hyacinth prayed for some kind of miracle as she whirled around, remembering Professor Quirrell's advice: _The best path is the quickest path._

In sheer dumb luck, Athena stuttered as she went to cast the stunner, and got hit with Hyacinth's sleeping spell. When she woke, she gave Hyacinth another sly smile and a "Well done."

* * *

Just a few days later, the Gryffindors struck again. This time, it was only on the boys of the House. All of their pants had been replaced with short skirts that had anti-Transfiguration charms on them. For the record, most of the boys were taking it in stride. Theo and Blaise, for example, had come down to breakfast in absolute dignity.

"Well," said Theo, "we figured that if it's alright for girls, it's alright for us. Not to mention that some of those wizards' robes look like dresses anyway."

It seemed some of the seventh-year boys had started a small rally within the boys' dorms to boost morale, settle down resentment, and throw the prank back in the Gryffindors' faces.

"These are quite cold, though," Blaise muttered. Daphne laughed.

"Now you know what it's like for _us_ , having to wear skirts every day," retorted the blonde.

That was when Hyacinth was summoned to Snape's office, which as Head of Slytherin was just down the hall from the Slytherin dungeon.

The greasy Potions Master was waiting behind the desk when she arrived. She hadn't been to this office yet, and took note of all the interesting jars and vials scattered on shelves around the room.

"Miss Potter, take a seat."

She sat, wondering if he'd finally figured out who let the Weasleys in (although, come to think of it, she had no clue how they got in the second time).

"Miss Potter, have you heard of the Great House Prank War of 1963?"

 _How in the hell would I have heard of the Great House Prank War of 1960-whatever when I've barely had time to learn about the the past ten years? You think I_ really _pay attention in Histo-_

"Judging by your altogether confused expression, I am assuming you have not. It was exactly what it sounds like. All four Houses got involved, matters got out of hand, at one point an unlucky Hufflepuff boy was left dangling from one of the goals on the Quidditch pitch for nearly an hour before the Headmaster was informed."

"Um, sorry, Professor," Hyacinth cut in, because apparently she didn't feel much like living that day, "but if that was in 1963, you wouldn't have been at Hogwarts yet even as a student, right?"

Snape pursed his lips. "That is _hardly_ the point, Miss Potter, I have had the story relayed to me by those who _were_ here, both teachers and students, and you can rest assured it was very serious."

"Who won?"

There was a glint in the professor's eye. "Gryffindor."

"So then, I mean, -and don't get me wrong, I have Gryffindor friends, but -isn't it therefore our duty as the new generation of fine, upstanding Slytherins to win this round?"

"Yes. Yes it is."

"Oh. Okay. I see."

And then she was sent off to Charms, where all the Slytherin boys were still in skirts.

"You know," said Blaise, "I'm thinking we should just make this permanent. Now that I've gotten used to the breeze I quite like this." Theo was nodding his agreement.

And that was the story of how a good majority of the boys in Slytherin House began occasionally wearing skirts, and no one really questioned it.

* * *

A few weeks later came the first Quidditch match of the year. Hyacinth found herself attending, basking in the warmth of autumn which winter would soon drain entirely. It was Slytherin vs Hufflepuff, so all the Slytherin first-years found themselves in a cluster of silver and green, cheering for players that whizzed around almost too fast to keep track of. Ultimately, Hufflepuff won.

"It's that damned Captain of theirs, Nymphadora Tonks," cursed a nearby third-year, and Hyacinth's eyes shot to Drisana, thinking the girl might be offended, but there was a small smile on her face.

* * *

"It's nice," said Drisana the next morning, as she and Hyacinth watched another sunrise. "It's nice knowing that she's so skilled. She's a duelist, the Captain of her Quidditch team, and she's the most prominent up-and-coming recruit for the Auror program. Makes me think I could be like that too, you know?"

"She seems very wonderful," commented Hyacinth.

"It's a shame her mother had to go and marry a _Muggle_ ," Drisana muttered with annoyance.

"Have you thought," ventured the dark-haired girl. "That if your aunt married a different man, Tonks might not be the same -her name wouldn't even be Tonks."

Drisana shrugged. "It's not impossible, but I believe a tendency towards exceptionalism runs in the Black family."

Well, it was better than a complete denial.

* * *

A few days later, the entire Gryffindor House came to breakfast with revoltingly green teeth. Hyacinth was delighted to see Professor McGonagall facepalm, Professor Dumbledore knit his hands together in thought, and Professor Snape give her, Athena, and Blaise a sly thumbs-up.

* * *

On Halloween, Hyacinth was devastated to learn there were no true Halloween parties or costuming to be going on, only a specially-decorated feast in the Great Hall.

"We're Slytherins," muttered Pansy with an eye-roll when Hyacinth asked why, "everyone already thinks we're monsters anyway."

"Plus," Tracey added, "most of the things Muggles like to dress up as would be downright offensive in the wizarding world, because most of their 'monsters' are real creatures with feelings."

"Tracey, ever the bleeding-heart," snickered Pansy from behind yet another magazine.

"Rather be a bleeding-heart than a rotten one," shot Athena from across the room, but she had a smile.

"Not me," contradicted Pansy, "I'm fine just the way I am, rotten to the core or not."

So there would be no costuming, but Daphne did offer to put her hair in plaits if she'd like to look special for the occasion.

"Famous Potter _always_ looks special," said Drisana.

"I sure do," said Hyacinth, who decided to roll with it.

* * *

That night, however, she was surprised to discover the festivities going on within Gryffindor Tower. Despite the ever-growing prank war, she was still allowed in with no more or less suspicious stares than she usually got.

But if there was one thing to be said for Gryffindors, they knew how to get down. The music was so loud she thought Professor McGonagall might come in at any moment to shut them down, and there were a dozen big bowls of candy being passed around and around the common room. Rumor had it some of the older students had gotten ahold of some firewhiskey, but that wasn't something Hyacinth would necessarily be interested in even if they _would_ give any to a first-year, which they wouldn't.

Hermione, for her part, was going with the flow. She, Hyacinth, Lavender, and Parvati had secluded themselves into an out-of-the-way corner and managed to snag one of the bowls of candy for just themselves.

"So what are they doing down in Slytherin?" asked Parvati with a shimmer in her eye.

Hyacinth sighed. "Absolutely nothing. Why do you think I snuck up here?"

"Oh, it wasn't just because you wanted to see me?" asked Hermione, fake-hurt in her voice.

" _Nothing?"_ shrieked Lavender, "That's mad!" Parvati was nodding in agreement.

"Sounds boring."

"It _is._ After the feast, all of us just came back and hung out in our dorm since the boys had detention."

"For what?" questioned Parvati with curiosity.

"Professor Sprout told them skirts were bad for Herbology class because of all the soil and moving plants that could nip you, and then they pointed out that the girls have to wear skirts every time they go to Herbology, and it kind of developed into a progressive riot in the middle of Herbology."

"Good," Hermione said, "They should be able to wear whatever they'd like."

* * *

The next move from Gryffindor came just before Christmas. It was quite possibly the most bizarre occurrence yet, because this was the first one that took place in the daytime, while the entirety of Slytherin House was at Quidditch game against Ravenclaw.

When they came back, all the beds were gone, and all the furniture in the common room too. A steamed sixth-year tracked down Snape, who then himself went to track down Dumbledore.

Dumbledore, it turned out, found it quite amusing.

"And it's all really gone?"

"Well, sir, they left our trunks, but that's about it. All the beds are gone, everything in the common room is gone, no one's found anything that looks like it might be Transfigured furniture."

Professor Snape watched Dumbledore expectantly.

"I know just how to solve this! Slytherin House will have a slumber party!"

Snape hesitated to ask. "With whom?"

"Why, with Gryffindor of course!"

"Headmaster, _no_ ," cried Snape in shock and horror.

"Headmaster, _yes!"_ replied Dumbledore with delight. There was the sound of about 27 collective groans from everyone else presently in the common room.

* * *

All in all, it wasn't so bad for Hyacinth. Hermione shared her bed with her and they snickered secretly at Drisana, who was far too proud to sleep in a Gryffindor bed and so had found a particularly thick rug for the night, muttering about how her father would hear about this. Hyacinth might have developed an absurd fondness for the girl, but still.

Although, it became evident to any who might have doubted that Dumbledore was losing his marbles when a fight broke out between the seventh year boys and the old man said "A little roughhousing is good for young boys, it's how they bond."

Later, Oliver Wood broke Marcus Flint's nose, and it became clear that the Headmaster had absolutely no marbles left to speak of.

Daphne, of course, became quite friendly with Lavender and Parvati despite her skittishness of all things Gryffindor, but one fashionista cannot resist the call of another, and so they were drawn into an endless discussion of hairstyles and what the _best_ winter style was.

Athena, for her part, minded her own business and appeared altogether uninterested in either fighting or befriending the Gryffindors, while Tracey tentatively joined Hermione and Hyacinth, and Pansy and Drisana sat by themselves.

It was a strange night indeed, but of course, the perfect moment to retaliate, and so Blaise, Athena, and Hyacinth found themselves clearing out the first-year boys' dorms of Slytherins, and kidnapping a fair amount of the inhabitants of the Owlery. It was also how the first-year Gryffindor boys woke up to Owls pooing all over their dorm, and hooting rather loudly for food or perhaps even attention.

After that, the Slytherin furniture was located rather quickly by Professor McGonagall, who could not bear the thought of whatever further shenanigans the Houses might get up to if left together for another night.

And then it was time to go home for Christmas. Hyacinth rode with Hermione on the train home, both dressed in thick Muggle sweaters and jeans.

"Do you think it'll be weird? Going back to Muggle life after the past few months?" asked Hermione.

Hyacinth shrugged. "A little. Sometimes I get scared I'll wake up one day and the whole thing will have been a dream."

"Me too," confessed Hermione, twisting one curly strand of hair around a finger. "It usually seems just too good to be true."

"Not all the time," muttered Hyacinth.

"No. Not all the time. It's still wonderful, though. Even with all the crap some of your Housemates like to give me, it's the most wonderful place in the world."

"Oh, so they were lying when they said Disneyland was the Happiest Place on Earth?"

"Must've been."

Hyacinth smiled softly. She already couldn't wait to get back to that strange old castle. "Yeah."

Hyacinth wanted to apologize for the way most of the other Slytherins treated Hermione. She wanted to assure her that she was slowly but surely working to change their minds. She wanted to make sure Hermione knew that even if Hyacinth were a pureblood instead of half, she still wouldn't think like them.

She wanted to tell Hermione that she only hung out with them because they were her Housemates and because she believed she could change their minds.

 _But that isn't true, is it?_ a voice in the back of her mind taunted her. _You like them. You think Drisana's sweet deep down, and you like Athena's confidence, and you like Blaise's charm and Theo's cleverness and Daphne's girlishness_

 _Shut up,_ she said back to it. _People aren't always one thing or the other. You can have good qualities and bad. Besides, the only one that really treats Hermione cruelly is Drisana._

Drisana. Drisana who liked to get up before everyone else and watch the sun rise from the Astronomy Tower. Drisana who thought her father had hung the moon and her mother had nailed the stars to the sky, even if they were horribly prejudiced.

And didn't everyone think like that? Growing up, she'd always thought Aunt Petunia was the most beautiful and kind woman in the world, aside from her mother, whom she only saw in old, faded pictures. Didn't everyone think their parents or whoever raised them were the best people ever, as long as they were loved?

Even if they did, that didn't mean they couldn't disagree with them. They'd get older, and Drisana would see the truth, even if her parents never did.

Venus, who had settled herself into Hyacinth's lap for the ride, was kneading on her leg, and the pain of her claws pulled Hyacinth from her thoughts. Hermione, meanwhile, looked nearly asleep. She was settled facing towards the window, watching the snowy countryside pass them by. Curls framed her face, and there was a blush beneath the brown skin from the cold.

That was when Drisana stopped by, flanked by Pansy and Blaise.

"Hyacinth," said Drisana, "I've come to inform you that you're invited to Malfoy Manor for New Year's Eve. Everyone's going. I'll owl you with the details."

Hyacinth simply nodded, not wanting to disturb Hermione, who was so close to sleep she had blurred the world around her and had taken no notice of her tormentor. Drisana's eyes flicked to the Muggleborn girl, but Blaise just grabbed her arm and muttered "Don't. It's Christmas," before pulling her away.

Next, as an even bigger surprise, came Tracey. Her smooth black hair was back in a braid, most likely courtesy of Daphne, and she had a nervous smile on her face as she sat next to Hyacinth wordlessly.

"Is she asleep?" she asked in a hushed tone, looking at Hermione softly.

"Think so. Or there really is some Slytherin in her and she's just keeping silent," Hyacinth answered with a chuckle.

Tracey didn't speak for a moment after that, and Hyacinth wasn't entirely sure what was going on.

But then she did speak.

"It makes me sick, the way they treat her. It's a disgrace, you'd think a House known for ambition and cunning would know better than to make an enemy out of someone as smart as Granger." She paused, and Hyacinth didn't speak, afraid to burst the bubble of whatever quiet revolution had occurred inside Tracey Davis, and wondering how she'd missed it. Or maybe it had been there all along. Tracey had never acted quite like a bully. And then Tracey continued.

"They call her the brightest witch of her age, did you know that? Not to her face, not yet, but the professors all agree, and after that night in Gryffindor where the three of us stayed up talking for awhile I think they're right. If you're quiet enough, people stop noticing you're even there, and then you hear things. She's brilliant, and Malfoy's gone and screwed herself over. Pansy doesn't help, no one really helps it but you, and you know Athena tends to rise above most things, but . . . I don't know how you do it, Hyacinth. How you balance both sides effortlessly. If I tried, I'd never hear the end of it from Pansy and Drisana, but you do what you like."

Hyacinth decided perhaps now would be an opportune time to speak. "The trick," she said finally, "is to make them think you're really on their side after all. Drisana Malfoy does not believe for a second that I am a true friend to Hermione Granger. She thinks I have funny ideas, of course, but she believes I truly care more for her and that I must have some clever Slytherin plot at hand to get so close to Hermione. Hermione's smarter than that, of course, and doesn't need the ego-stroking. And anyhow, I let them know from the start that I was not to be pushed around."

Tracey nodded, fiddling with the end of her braid. "Tell her for me, won't you? Whenever she wakes up. That I'm sorry, or something that sounds less useless than that. Wish I wasn't such a damn coward, I'd prove that there's more good to Slytherin than just one of us."

"I imagine she already knows, but I'm happy to pass the message along."

Tracey smiled. "Thanks. Anyway, I should be getting back to Daphne and the rest. See you for New Year's?"

"Yeah, I'll see you there, Trace. Happy Christmas."

"Happy Christmas."

When she left, Hyacinth grinned, lightly kicking Hermione. "You're not fooling me, Granger."

Hermione cracked one eyelid open. "That was a heavy conversation, Potter. My burning ears woke me from sleep."

"That's only when people are gossiping about you, dummy. Anyhow, what do you think?"

Hermione sat up slowly. "I think she's a lovely girl that I wish I could be better friends with."

Hyacinth shrugged. "No reason you can't try. Every movement starts somewhere."

 **A/N: This one was fun to write. Anywho, please leave a review, and their First Year will be wrapping up in the next chapter. Thanks for reading!**


	6. Of Beginnings and Endings

Hyacinth was not ashamed to admit that she rushed into Aunt Petunia's arms as soon as she got out of Platform 9.75.

She even hugged Duncan, who was not yet old enough to be too embarrassed to hug her back. Not after three months without her, at least.

When they got home, Aunt Petunia had dinner ready in a matter of moments. It was Hyacinth's favorite, steak with fried potatoes, and they questioned her endlessly about her school of magic as they ate.

"Your mother was in Gryffindor," said Petunia, "But she had a close friend in Slytherin. Actually, and I didn't want to tell you this until you'd had time to form your own opinions of the man, it was Severus Snape. He was a bizarre, strange boy then, but it seems he's treated you well so I suppose he's matured."

The revelation smacked Hyacinth like a ton of bricks. But, wait, what about what Drisana had told her?

"But Aunt Petunia, my friend Drisana told me Snape didn't like my father."

"Oh, he didn't. I suppose that was one thing he and I had in common, although I eventually warmed up to him, and Snape never did. I don't really know the details of why that was," said Aunt Petunia with a feigned ignorance that Hyacinth saw through, but figured that Aunt Petunia would have told her if she'd wanted her to know, and Aunt Petunia was not one to give away information if she didn't think you should have it.

Duncan, meanwhile, wanted to know if she could show him any cool spells.

"No," she said sadly, "We're not allowed to do magic outside of the school while we're underage."

The next morning, she was delighted to receive an owl from Drisana explaining the details of the New Year's Eve event, which she would be escorted to by Narcissa and Drisana themselves who would pick her up and bring her back via Floo about an hour before the party was to begin. Aunt Petunia easily granted her permission to go, smiling and saying how happy she was that Hyacinth was making friends.

"I wish I could meet your friends," muttered Duncan on Christmas Eve, while they were staying up late in her bedroom.

"You can," she replied. "You can meet Drisana when she and her mother come to pick me up, and I'll invite Hermione over during the summer, and maybe you can meet Blaise and Theo as well. Or Fred and George, they're twins and they're pranksters, you'd love them." She ignored the fact that Blaise and Theo would never be allowed to set foot in a Muggle home, and the only reason Drisana was was because she had no other way of getting to Malfoy Manor, and she imagined it would look very good for the Malfoys if Hyacinth Potter, savior of the wizarding world, attended their New Year's Ball.

Even so, Duncan looked excited at the prospect of meeting even one or two of her friends.

Christmas morning was wonderful. She and Duncan continued their tradition of trying (and failing) to wake up before Aunt Petunia, who always had breakfast ready by the time they were awake no matter how early.

As usual, their presents were divided by pattern of wrapping paper; hers had little reindeer, and Duncan's had little snowmen, and they attacked them eagerly.

Hyacinth was pleasantly shocked to discover that her aunt had somehow managed to acquire her a soft t-shirt that had the name of her House and it's emblem printed on it, as well as a beautiful green and grey sweater made of the softest fabric she'd ever felt.

"How -?"

"Come now, Hyacinth, you must have realized your old aunt here has her ways, now try them on, hm?"

She also received a lovely pack of emerald-green socks, and it occurred to her that she had the best aunt in the entire world.

She also, incidentally, received a fair amount of presents from her friends, and she realized with shame that she'd neglected to buy presents for any of them. She wasn't used to having so many friends, and the thought that they might send her gifts hadn't even occurred to her. Hermione had sent her a book on all the greatest witches and wizards who came from Slytherin. Daphne and Pansy had sent her magical lip glosses. Tracey, a cute little painting of the window looking into the lake from the Slytherin common room, enchanted to move and have different creatures drift in and out of the frame, with a note saying "For when you miss it, because I know you do, Potter." Blaise and Theo had both sent her sweets, and Athena had sent her a little golden dragon figure charmed to move around.

Drisana, ever the extravagant, had sent her a gorgeous snake pendant made of silver and emerald on a silver chain.

Hot with embarrassment, she wrote them all back and explained that she'd been so busy catching up with her Muggle relatives the past few days that there'd been no time to wrap their gifts, but that they'd all receive them upon their return to Hogwarts, and then explained to Aunt Petunia why they'd need to make a trip to Diagon Alley before break was finished. Aunt Petunia agreed, understanding why it was absolutely unacceptable to receive gifts from all her friends and send _not one_ back to any of them.

Before that, though, came the New Year's Ball. Hyacinth had dressed in what _she_ thought what was a respectable dress, but it appeared that the primary reason the Malfoys were picking her up early was to take her to get a "proper" dress.

Narcissa Malfoy, ever the well-groomed socialite, Floo'd into Number Four, Privet Drive just one minute early, and greeted Aunt Petunia with a charming smile, telling her how she'd heard "absolutely _wonderful_ things about Hyacinth, I must thank you for raising such a dear young lady."

Drisana, meanwhile, slanted her eyes at her with a smirk.

"Happy New Year's, Potter."

"Happy New Year's, Malfoy."

"Hi, I'm Duncan."

It was a credit to Narcissa Malfoy's extremely severe stance on courtesy when she'd raised her daughter that Drisana didn't recoil from Duncan's presence alone, because her mother would have had her head.

"Charmed."

"Anyway, we must be off, but I can have her home by about one tonight if you'd like? Or she could stay over at the Manor, some of the other children are staying over as well since the ball will be running quite late."

"Oh, that's quite alright, as long as it's okay with Hyacinth."

It was okay with Hyacinth, so she quickly packed a bag of pajamas and they took off, Narcissa showing her how to use the Floo system.

They arrived in Diagon Alley, where Narcissa sent Hyacinth's things ahead to the Manor and they took off for the dress shop.

"Hyacinth, my dear, the dress you have on is lovely of course, but I'm quite interested in seeing how you might look in a few pieces I saw in this little dress shop down the way."

"Just go with it, Hyacinth," muttered Drisana, so Hyacinth went with it.

They arrived at a nice little dress shop with big glass windows and a bright woman working behind the counter, who greeted Naricissa Malfoy as "Cissa, darling," and rushed off to find some dresses for Hyacinth Potter to try on.

She returned with something pale pink, something silver, and something deep emerald.

Narcissa and the clerk cooed at all of them, but Drisana's jaw nearly dropped when she saw her in the green.

"Oh, Hyacinth dear, I think you must go with the green," decided Narcissa, while Drisana was nodding with vehemence.

It was a pretty dress, to be sure. Hyacinth wasn't necessarily interested in beauty, but she respected what looking good could do for a person, so she always let Daphne do her hair and listened to Pansy's lectures on the perfect colors for every season and skin tone. So she let Narcissa Malfoy buy her a dress that probably would have costed her half of the Potter family fortune, and said not a word of protest, only appreciation.

"You're a smart girl," said Narcissa as they left, dress in hand, "and smart girls know their worth."

It was then that Hyacinth arrived for the first time in Malfoy Manor. A gorgeous, regal estate that had _live peacocks_ strutting about the grounds.

They still had about twenty-five minutes before the rest of the guests (or, in the case of who actually mattered to Hyacinth and Drisana: their friends) arrived, and so it was that Hyacinth Potter encountered Lucius Malfoy for the first time.

"It is good to meet you, Miss Potter, I've heard many good things about you from Drisana."

Drisana was smiling with pride at the way her parents took to Hyacinth, explaining to her after the children were sent off to their own devices, that her parents were rarely fond of any of her friends. It was more like they accepted them as being in the same social sphere and so were kind to them, but they were delighted with her when they'd found out she was friends with Hyacinth Potter.

Even if Hyacinth weren't always the slyest serpent in the nest, she did know what this one was about. According to Parvati and Lavender, who quite liked to gossip and were both from pureblood families that had stayed relatively neutral during the war, there was a lot of suspicion cast on the Malfoy family after the Dark Lord's defeat, when Lucius Malfoy had been revealed as a Death Eater. He'd escaped Azkaban on a claim of Imperius, which many thought was false, and ever since he'd been trying to cast himself in better lights.

One effective way of doing that, Hyacinth supposed, was to align yourself with the girl who defeated your supposed master. Well, even if Lucius Malfoy was only playing at being good, his daughter could be the real thing, if only given the chance.

Soon enough, the guests began to stream in, and Hyacinth was reunited with her Slytherin companions. Athena, Daphne, Pansy, and Tracey were dressed in fine silks and chiffons of various colors, all dolled up for the high society event, while the boys were in proper wizard's robes.

"What, no skirts tonight?" jabbed Pansy as she examined one black manicured nail.

"No, we upgraded to the dresses," shot Blaise, holding the end of his emerald green robe in demonstration, which fell all the way to the floor.

But Hyacinth was paying closer attention now to Tracey. The girl had her soft black hair tied in a half-ponytail out of her face and wore a simple pink dress which contrasted nicely with her dark skin. Her eyes were deep blue like the night sky, and she watched those around her with increasing dislike.

Maybe there were a lot of things you could see once you finally started paying attention to people. Tracey was good, Hyacinth decided, and whatever fondness the girl retained for the other Slytherins might not survive the next several years unless they found some good somewhere too.

The problem was there _was_ good, probably in all of them, but it was such a chore to get any of them to admit it.

Hyacinth was pulled from her thoughts by Drisana, who had grabbed her by the hand and was pulling her to the children's table for dinner. Not to be deterred, however, the back of her mind pushed and pulled at all the ways she might go about pulling Slytherin into the light, so much so that she hardly noticed the rest of the night until it neared midnight.

Lucius and Narcissa had arranged for a wondrous display of magical fireworks, and the youngest serpents of the bunch had gathered onto Drisana's private balcony to watch. Hyacinth sat between Blaise and the Malfoy heir, and watched with amazement as the brightest and most brilliant fireworks she'd ever seen lit up the sky above Malfoy Manor. She felt a pressure on her right hand and realized Drisana was squeezing it. The blonde girl wasn't looking at her, and maybe didn't even realize she had grabbed hold of Hyacinth. Her gray eyes were an iridescent silver in the light, her platinum hair shining almost reflectively, and she looked entranced. Almost like when she saw the sun rise.

Afterwards, they were all directed to their private guest rooms for the night.

Athena Rosier was just finishing her before-bed routine when there was a faint knock at the door.

She was somewhat surprised to see Daphne behind the door, her ash-blonde hair done up in a loose bun, looking tired.

"Sorry, 'thena, it's just that -I was wondering if I could sleep in here with you? I don't usually sleep all alone in one room, even at home me and Tori share a sleeping room, and . . ."

She didn't say more, but she really didn't need to. Athena was already moving out of the way so that her friend could enter.

"Thank you," Daphne murmured as she fell asleep next to her.

Athena Rosier, meanwhile, wondered what nightmares followed her upbeat friend Daphne Greengrass.

* * *

Two days later was the day before the students of Hogwarts were scheduled to return, and Hyacinth was pulling Aunt Petunia through Diagon Alley to purchase presents for her friends. She had even brought Duncan along, who was rubbernecking to look at anything and everything.

By the end of the day, she felt satisfied as she wrapped the gifts.

For Hermione, a Muggle book about biology that focused on genetics. ' _For your pursuits in proving a few people wrong.'_

For Athena, who had been rather enjoying their late-night escapades into Gryffindor Tower, a bag of pranks from Zonko's.

Tracey had been one of the most personal. Hyacinth had found a small white orb that would emit light and levitate with a single tap on its surface. ' _Don't lose your light.'_

Pansy and Daphne she'd simply sent Muggle lip glosses, figuring they'd be interested by the taboo, and that it made a nice exchange.

Meanwhile, she'd bought Blaise and Theo matching green skirts, accompanied with gray leggings.

Drisana, finally, she'd bought a charmed necklace of the sun, that would fill and drain with light in accordance to the actual sky wherever she was. ' _In case you can't make it to the Astronomy Tower for a sunrise.'_

And so she felt very pleased with herself when she handed out gifts on the train the next morning as it bustled towards their beloved castle.

Once again, she spent the majority of the ride with Hermione, who spent a great deal of time looking through the new book that Hyacinth had given her, but was sitting with her head in Hyacinth's lap, and every so often would ask her something about her break, or share some of her own information. This was friendship with Hermione Granger; you would always have to share attention with a book.

It was worth it, though, because the way Hermione's face drew together when she was concentrating was like magic to witness, and the way Hermione would laugh when she was truly amused, the way her head would lean back and her mouth stretch and her shoulders shake, was such a sight of joy that Hyacinth could not imagine a world where she did not get to see it, to hear it.

"Hey," Hermione said after a moment, "Fred and George are organizing a little back-to-school party tonight, are you coming?"

"Probably," Hyacinth answered, "In Slytherin it'll mostly just be Daph and Pansy forcing everyone into makeovers with all their new makeup and hair products, so."

It was then that Hyacinth received one of those laughs, and it was a sight to see.

"Alright, just walk back with me to the Tower after the Welcome-Back feast."

* * *

Some time later, Hyacinth found herself in amazement and wonder that Gryffindor Tower did not get caught often for the noise. Someone had brought in a boombox and was loudly playing all the latest new rock and roll, pop, and hip-hop.

Hermione was once again relaxing, and Parvati and Lavender interrogated Hyacinth with a thousand questions about Muggle cosmetics.

"Well," Hyacinth was saying, "I could always have my aunt mail me some products for you to try."

They went _mad_ at the prospect, and thanked her profusely, making Hermione chuckle. She was wearing one of Fred's old Gryffindor Hoodies, and her hair was pulled into a half-ponytail. Most of the time, of course, Hermione's entire body was a line of stress and focus, and Hyacinth enjoyed these Gryffindor get-togethers where she saw her friend more at peace.

"So," said Hyacinth conspiratorially after Lavender and Parvati had run off, "What do you think the twins' next prank will be?"

Hermione smiled, rolling her eyes. "Something very _childish_ , I'm sure," she replied, and then lowered her voice, "but if I were you, I'd learn how to repel snakes."

"Why, Hermione, you should know I'm a bit of a snake charmer."

* * *

Hermione had spoken true. The very next morning, the Slytherin student body woke to a serpent in _every_ room, mostly ball pythons.

The one in the first-year girls' dorms was actually kind of cute, the more Hyacinth thought about it. He was white and green and just a baby, and since Drisana had grown up with a tank full of snakes in her home, she had no problem at all conjuring a tank to put him in for the time being.

That being said, it caused quite a havoc in the boys' dorms, when Theo, Blaise, Crabbe, and Goyle ran out shrieking one by one, none of them knowing how to handle a real-life snake.

Needless to say, Snape was _furious._

"Headmaster, students could have been injured or killed," he snapped while Dumbledore looked at the tanks stacked in the Slytherin common room with amusement, "And as much as they astound me with their ignorance, irresponsibility, and dullness, I would be _most_ displeased by the commotion it would cause if any of them were to die on school grounds."

The Headmaster sighed. "Yes, Professor Snape, I suppose those boys have gotten out of hand this time. Very well, I shall speak to Molly."

* * *

That very afternoon, the Weasley twins received what was (surprisingly) their first Howler of the year, which carried the shrill voice of whom Hyacinth assumed was their mother, shrieking at them that they better not step another toe out of line, and imagine if they'd gotten someone hurt, and did they want to spend their lives in Azkaban because she would happily arrange a visit for them.

Hyacinth held back from anything more than a discrete snicker or two, while most of Slytherin had fallen into absolute hysterics. Blaise was laughing so hard his stomach hurt.

And thus an end came to the Great Prank War of 1991, because the twins could no longer retaliate and so Hyacinth would find no further joy in enacting tomfoolery within Gryffindor Tower.

* * *

Winter slipped into spring with ease, in what Hyacinth would later remember as a blur of class, Quidditch matches, dueling club, Gryffindor parties, and studying with Hermione. Birthdays for most of her friends passed and she gave them all little trinkets to show her affection. The entire school waited with bated breath at what new tragedy or scandal would befall the Defense teacher, while Quirrell taught on with a direct and precise approach that left most students exam and battle ready.

In the end, he resigned, claiming his mother had fallen very ill and he would have to go take care of her, wishing the students well. They all sighed in relief that they had nothing to think poorly of the professor, who had for all intents and purposes been a pretty good teacher.

And so, spring slipped into summer, and Hyacinth realized she had arrived at the last day before summer break.

"Not firsties after today," Athena murmured as she packed her things next to her.

"No," Hyacinth agreed, "And thank Merlin for that."

"What do you think the next Defense professor will be like?" asked Daphne.

"Dunno," answered Athena, "Just hope they've got _passing competence."_

The girls all giggled, remembering that first night in Slytherin.

"Anyway," said Drisana, "Everyone's invited over this summer for a couple weeks to stay, after the pool's all finished. I'll send out invitations, of course."

"Will the boys be there?" asked Pansy, batting her lashes as Tracey tried to shove the last jumper in her trunk.

Drisana rolled her eyes. "They're invited, but they'll be staying in a completely separate wing anyhow, so why don't you just slow your roll."

They all took one last look at the dorm that had been home for nine months. Hyacinth missed her family, but she didn't want to leave.

"Well," said Athena after a minute or two, "We'd best get going if we don't want to miss the train."

Hyacinth, of course, continued her tradition of riding with Hermione, who had a lot to tell her about the noted she'd gathered on Muggle genetics and what it might mean for the genetics of magic.

"From what I understand," began Hermione, brushing a curl out of her face as she looked over her annotated genetics book, "The gene for magic should be recessive, which means all Muggleborns are technically descended from witches or wizards whether they know it or not."

"Then what about half-bloods? And squibs?"

"Hm. That's a good question, but in any case, magic is obviously genetically linked. It might not be recessive then, or it might be complex. I'll just have to do more research."

Hyacinth shrugged. "Honestly, 'mione, it doesn't really matter to me. You're the best student in our year regardless of who your parents are."

Hermione smiled under the praise, gently blushing. "Well thank you, but-"

 _Knock knock knock._

It was Tracey Davis.

"Oh, hello, I didn't mean to interrupt," she said, "but would it be alright if I sat here for the rest of the trip?"

Hermione and Hyacinth met eyes, and then Hermione gestured that she could come in.

"It's quite alright with me," she said kindly, offering the other Slytherin a smile.

"What brings you here?" asked Hyacinth.

Tracey shrugged. "You know how Drisana can be. It just got rather tiring. I see why you don't sit with us." She laughed, but it was a tired laugh, and she leaned against Hyacinth.

Meanwhile, Hermione put her book away.

"Well, are you excited for summer, Tracey?"

Tracey nodded, smiling a sunshine smile. "I can't wait. Of course, I can't wait to go back to the castle, either, but the weather's so much better." She ran a hand through her sleek hair, nails freshly painted baby pink.

Almost naturally, Tracey and Hermione fell into amiable chatter, and Hyacinth offered something every so often to the flow. Eventually, they pulled into King's Cross.

And just like that, their first year at Hogwarts was over.

 **A/N: Next up will be covering the summer, and then after that onto second year, which will probably be shorter than first year. Anyway, please leave a review, they really do motivate me to write more, and the faster I write, the faster I update. Thanks for reading!**


	7. Of Summer Days and Secrets

That summer was put to good use. Hermione came over the second week of summer and slept over for the whole week, all too eager to teach Duncan everything she knew about magic, who, for his part, was all too eager to learn.

On the last night before Hermione went back home, the two of them stayed up all night.

"So what are you doing with the rest of summer?" Hermione asked, laying on her stomach with her ankles crossed above her.

"Eh. I think I'm going over to Malfoy Manor but I'm not sure the specifics yet. You?"

"You know," said Hermione, "I'd quite like to spend more time with Tracey. D'you think she'd want to?"

Hyacinth smiled, satisfaction running through her. "Of course. Tracey thinks quite highly of you, Miss Granger."

Hermione chewed her lip. "I think so too, but what about her parents? She's pureblood, isn't she?"

"Yeah, but I think her mum's a half-blood. In any case, her family isn't half as snobby as some others you might be thinking of, so I wouldn't worry too much."

Hermione wore a small, reassured smile. "Good. She's quite nice."

"She really is. Nicer than I am, to be sure. In fact, I think you caught the wrong Slytherin."

Hermione made a face. "I think I found exactly the _right_ Slytherin, thank you very much, but it has occurred to me that you're not the only nice one."

"Well this is awkward, because I got the wrong Gryffindor, and I was hoping we could come to a mutual kind of thing and I could exchange you for Lavend-"

She was cut off as Hermione, laughing, shoved her off the bed. She hit the floor with a decisive _thump_ and saw Hermione's face leaning over the side of the bed to look at her with a cheeky grin.

* * *

The two weeks at Malfoy Manor were, somewhat surprisingly, wonderful. Hyacinth thought she might start feeling uncomfortable spending so much time at the manor, but Narcissa and Lucius were perfectly kind and charming, and she didn't exactly see them so much anyway, as she and the others spent most of the time at the brand-new pool.

Summer was sticky-sweet as Hyacinth sat on the edge of the in-ground with her feet in the water. Theo was next to her, Pansy and Blaise were currently racing, Drisana was making an attempt to tan which they all knew would fail, Athena had been whisked off somewhere by Narcissa, and Tracey was sitting next to Drisana, reading a book that had been loaned to her by a certain Gryffindor the week before, when they'd went over each other's houses for the first time.

"You know," said Theo from next to her, "It's weird, but I kind of want to go back to school."

"It's not weird," said Hyacinth, "Hogwarts is an interesting place."

"I heard Snape's thinking of offering special potions."

"Where'd you hear that from? And special potions to who?"

Theo flicked a gaze behind them, where Drisana was sprawled across a beach chair.

"Lucius and Snape are friends. Me and Blaise overheard their Floo call the other night. Apparently he's thinking of offering them to you, me, Padma Patil, and Granger. 'They're the only halfway acceptable students in their year, and even that is just a hair short of utter disgrace.'" They giggled at his spot-on impression of the Potions Master's drawl.

"Hm. That sounds interesting. Does he usually do that?"

Theo shrugged. "Probably sometimes. I mean, it wouldn't make sense for him to randomly start doing it for our year and have that many."

"It's only four."

"Yes, but for Snape to find four students, two of which aren't Slytherin, decent enough to be worth teaching special potions, and for them to be all from the same year, is unlikely."

"You've got a point there, Nott."

After a moment, he said, "If you ever repeat this, I might kill you, but I'm starting to really respect that Granger girl. And more than just that part of me that thinks we should treat people with basic decency every now and then, which no one seems to believe can exist in a Slytherin, but I'm starting to realize how much effort it must have taken for her to go from knowing _nothing_ about magic or our world into the top student of the year."

Hyacinth held in a breath. None of the others had heard them, they were ensconced in their own activities, and Hyacinth was afraid of saying too much and halting the quiet revelation Theodore Nott was experiencing.

"I mean, I don't know. She's still kind of a know-it-all, and _Merlin_ that can be annoying, but I don't think we should be giving her so much crap just for her blood status when she does better than any of us, you know?"

Hyacinth nodded. "She may be a know-it-all, but she's not so annoying once you get to know her," was the farthest she would dare to push the boy beside her.

Theo chuckled. "Maybe so, or maybe you're just soft on her."

"Maybe it's just me," Hyacinth responded, "But I've never understood how someone couldn't be. Aside from the prejudiced, of course."

"No, yeah, I think that one's just you," Theo said with a grin, his light blue eyes dancing with mirth.

Hyacinth shrugged. If she was the only one in the world who thought Hermione Granger was the coolest person she'd ever met, then that just meant she was the only one with a brain. "Anyway, you know it's my birthday next week, right?"

He nodded. "Absolutely. I've already called the ensemble."

"Oh, shut up. I brought it up because my aunt's getting a cake and everything and she wants to know if my friends are coming."

"Oh."

Suddenly, Hyacinth looked at the water beneath her, fighting with everything she had not to be embarrassed of her family. "Yeah."

"Well, ordinarily I imagine the answer would be 'absolutely _not',_ " he began, "But, considering you _are_ Hyacinth Potter, savior of the wizarding world and Dark family reputations, you might just wrangle permission out of our parents. Tracey's won't care, obviously, but the rest of us might have to do some convincing."

"If you can't, it's okay," she said, "Or any of the others. I just thought I'd ask you first because you tend to be aware of things like this."

His eyes drifted towards the house. Lucius and Narcissa were in there somewhere, and Athena too. They would later find out Narcissa had gifted her a book of offensive spells that were 'difficult to obtain at Hogwarts, dear,' and was practicing with her.

"Like I said. It would do most of our fathers some good if it got to the papers that they let their children go to Hyacinth Potter's birthday party at her Muggle family's house. That's the kind of heartwarming thing no one expects from them."

"And," he added after a second, "It's what any good Slytherin would do."

She nodded, feeling hopeful. It would be nicely surreal for all of her friends to meet Aunt Petunia, although she'd have to tell Duncan not to ask them too many questions.

"Oh," she had a wicked realization, "Hermione's coming. And a few other Gryffindors. Do me a favor and don't tell Drisana or Pansy, whatever you do."

He threw back his head and laughed, drawing the attention of the others.

"Your secret is safe with me," he whispered, "And hey, maybe while we're there you can finally play that violin for me."

"You've never heard me play?" She frowned. "Hm. I played a few times but that _was_ only in the dorm, so I guess you haven't. Alright, maybe." She nudged him. "If you're lucky."

* * *

Narcissa and Lucius were convinced with little-to-no effort; as they sat down for dinner a few nights later, Drisana cleared her throat.

"Mother, Father, you may or may not know it's Hyacinth's birthday next week."

Narcissa's face lit up. "Oh, Hyacinth darling why didn't you _tell_ us? We'll have to make a day of it, of course, we can make it a girls' day with all us girls, or you can invite the boys too if you'd like, but -"

" _Actually_ , Mother," Drisana cut in, because Hyacinth wasn't quite comfortable enough to interrupt Narcissa Malfoy yet, "Her aunt's having a party over at her house, and I was wondering if I might go."

Narcissa turned to Lucius, who smiled. "Well, of _course,_ honey, we'd love nothing more. But Hyacinth, don't think you've escaped a girls' day. We'll just have to postpone it." Her red lipstick contrasted sharply with the pale skin. Narcissa Malfoy was a lovely and graceful woman, and Hyacinth couldn't help but to feel a weird fear-respect feeling for her.

She looked around at the rest of them. "And of course the rest of you are going? I can speak with your parents about arranging transportation." Just like that, none of their parents could refuse permission even if they'd have wanted to.

Narcissa Malfoy was also the most Slytherin person Hyacinth believed she'd ever met.

* * *

Subsequently, Hyacinth found herself getting dressed and ready for her party on the day of her 12th birthday. Aunt Petunia had taken her to a nice shop a few days before and found her a gorgeous dress, white and printed with green palm leaves. She had found simple white flats to wear with it, and she had even taken the extra step to force Daphne, Lavender, and Parvati over a couple of hours early to help her do her hair and even a slight bit of makeup, because Merlin for big she attempt to do it herself. The girls, of course, had been delighted, and were currently collaborating on the beauty project as if they had no idea they were in rival houses.

"Jesus," said Duncan as he came in her room, "How many girls does it take to do hair?"

"Actually," said Daphne as she worked on curling yet another lock of Hyacinth's thick hair, "This isn't really that many."

Lavender was debating on which shade of lip gloss to smear on Hyacinth's lips, and Parvati was doing a touch of mascara.

"Anyway," said Duncan, shaking his head, "Aunt Petunia wants to know what time the rest of your guests are arriving?"

Hyacinth checked the clock that sat on her dresser. "From now it'll be about twenty minutes."

Daphne swore under her breath. "We'll have to hurry up, then. Have I ever told you just how much hair you have up here?"

"Once or twice."

"Good. Just making sure you're aware."

Lavender settled on a shade of peach for the lips, and the Gryffindor girls joined Daphne's effort to finish Hyacinth's hair.

They made it just in the nick of time, Daphne applying hairspray as the doorbell rang.

Hermione was there, her mother standing behind her to say hi to Aunt Petunia.

The two women went into the kitchen for a chat (turns out they got along pretty well when they'd met the first time Hermione and Hyacinth hung out) while Hyacinth brought everyone to the living room, where most of the party would be taking place.

"Happy birthday, Hya, you look gorgeous," said Hermione with a smile, hugging Hyacinth hard and adding a present to the pile that had been growing in the corner ever since Daphne arrived.

"So," said Hermione to the group with a grin, "Anyone want to take bets on how long Malfoy's heart attack will take when she sees I'm here."

Daphne snickered, and flicked her ash-blonde hair behind behind her shoulder. "About half a second."

She didn't exactly have a _heart attack,_ but the noises of shock that came out of Drisana Malfoy upon her arrival were quite amusing to just about everyone else, who had a brain and realized that Hermione Granger would probably be invited. Even Pansy wasn't _that_ surprised, disgusted though she might have been.

" _She's_ here-" began the blonde.

" _Yes,_ she's here, and everyone's going to _shut up_ and _play nice_ because it's _my_ birthday and on _your_ birthday I had to go to Bulgaria with you and endure the _terrible_ rainstorms that day all for a _Quidditch match_ so you can bloody well keep your comments to yourself for a few hours," hissed Hyacinth, despite her amusement at catching Drisana by surprise.

All in all, she was lucky Aunt Petunia hadn't heard her speaking to a guest that way, because she was still in the kitchen finishing up the chips she'd made homemade to go with the chicken.

Drisana's cheeks were flaming red, and she looked down at her shoes as Theo, Blaise, Tracey, and Athena entered the house behind her.

Luckily, she recovered quickly from the embarrassment, and _did_ manage to keep her mouth shut for the duration of the party.

It actually went pretty well, all things considered. There were no open fights or even arguments, and all the Slytherins in attendance cheered in delight when they saw what color her cake was: Slytherin green.

Hermione, Tracey, Daphne, and Parvati formed their own subgroup, as did Drisana, Athena, Theo, Blaise, and Pansy, and Hyacinth bounced between the two of them for a while until they did gifts, while Duncan was pretty much only paying attention to Parvati and Lavender.

She received more or less similar gifts to Christmas, and she was happy. The way everyone was getting along (or at least trying to) made her hopeful that one day her vision could be a reality.

* * *

Finally, not a moment too soon, it was time to go back to school. Apparently the new Defense teacher was some lunatic celebrity that girls went crazy for, but none of the girls _Hyacinth_ knew, herself included, were particularly taken by him.

On the train, it was her, Hermione, and Tracey again, which Hyacinth knew would become the tradition. Theo had even stopped by and sat with them for a few minutes before returning to his typical compartment.

Then, a first-year came to the compartment. She had bright red hair and a dusting of freckles.

"Hi," she said without a hint of shyness, "Can I sit with you? There aren't any empty compartments, and I don't want to sit with my brother and I thought you guys looked nice."

"Sure," said Hermione, moving over so the girl could sit next to her, "Who's your brother?"

The girl rolled her eyes into the next dimension. "Ron Weasley. I'm Ginny Weasley."

Despite herself, Hyacinth felt her lip curl. If there was one boy that really irked her, it was Ron Weasley and the way he treated her and the rest of Slytherin like they were _evil_. " _Ron Weasley_ is your brother?"

"Yeah, but please don't hold it against me."

"Nobody can choose the circumstances of their birth," said Hermione, patting the girl's shoulder in a sisterly manner.

"So," began Tracey, leaning forward a little, "What House are you hoping for? Tell me it's not Gryffindor like all your brothers."

Ginny giggled. "No. I don't know." Her eyes went straight to Hyacinth, and she knew that this girl knew who she was. "I wouldn't much mind Slytherin, though."

Hermione gasped, clutching her chest as though she'd been wounded. "My heart!" she cried, "My aching, Gryffindor heart!"

"Hah, another one of ours, Granger," shot Hyacinth with a smirk.

"Oh, Merlin," said Hermione, "Suppose I could come hide down in the vipers' nest when Ron has a meltdown about that?"

Tracey shrugged. "I don't see why not, we'll just go in the dorm and you'll be okay."

"I mean," added Hyacinth, "If I can go in Gryffindor Tower as often as I do, there's no reason why the snakes can't get used to a lion."

* * *

Ginny Weasley, (along with Daphne's sister Astoria), did in fact get Sorted into Slytherin, which left a shocked silence akin to Hyacinth's own Sorting.

"Some people don't understand that you can grow beyond what your family was," Hyacinth told the youngest Weasley as she sat across from her.

Ginny nodded, gripping her goblet with white knuckles.

That night, Hermione did in fact come down to the Slytherin dungeon. It was the first time she'd ever been there. She was met with a rather large amount of stares, sneers, and mutters, but Hyacinth and Tracey quickly whisked Hermione away to the second-year girls' dorm, where, mercifully, Drisana was absent.

Ron Weasley did in fact have a tantrum that night, ranting to anyone who would listen how he couldn't _believe_ his baby sister had been Sorted into _that_ House, that there must've been some mistake.

Ginny, meanwhile, merely got a short note from her parents at breakfast the next morning saying they still loved her.

"As if they should've _stopped_ for something as trivial as your _Hogwarts House_ ," muttered Tracey, but Ginny shrugged.

"It seems like Ron might."

"Well," said Blaise, "Family ought to come 'round sooner or later, and if he doesn't, we can be your older brothers."

"Yeah," agreed Theo as he looked over his schedule. Hyacinth, sitting next to him, looked over his shoulder. They'd both received the same note in Snape's spidery scrawl telling them that they were being offered advanced potions tutoring, which would take place in their free block on Wednesdays after lunch, if they should so choose to attend.

"You're going, right?" she checked.

He scoffed. "Is that even a question? If you have the chance to advance yourself, you take it."

"Do you think he still offered it to Hermione? And Padma Patil?"

"I guess we'll find out."

* * *

First, though, they found out what a miserable _joke_ the new Defense professor was. Gilderoy Lockhart was a shameless, full-of-himself braggart who had probably never done or even _seen_ half the things he said he did. And that was only according to Athena, who was furious at the replacement of the teacher who'd taught her the foundations of everything she knew about dueling.

"You'd think," she muttered, rubbing her temples at lunch after their first Defense lesson of the year, "That Dumbledore would have the sense to not _downgrade_ on Defense teachers! How in Merlin's name do you go from Professor Quirrell -who may have been intense, but was at least _competent -_ to this _miserable excuse for an educator."_

All this she said through grit teeth, lest someone outside of Slytherin hear her and run tattling. Hyacinth was surprised; other than her antagonism of Ron Weasley, which was a popular sport for pretty much all of Slytherin, she wasn't usually one to engage in vehement bouts of rage or passion. Generally, she had an air of being above such things. She was a precise, skilled duelist that never showed sign of temper, and yet, she had been pushed to the edge by Professor Lockhart.

Well, at least now Hyacinth knew what it took to get under Athena's thick skin. The girl's brown hair fell in long waves around her as she tried to calm herself; Tracey was rubbing her back in soothing circles, which seemed to help bring her indignation down.

To be fair, she was right. Lockhart had absolutely no idea what he was doing. Drisana was muttering about how her father would hear about this, and Theo looked ready to hit himself with the Killing Curse.

* * *

Things started really getting weird, though, when Hyacinth, Daphne, and Drisana were walking back early from dinner the next evening, only to discover what appeared to be a dead cat hanging from the wall, and a message written in a substance suspiciously dark red.

"The Chamber of Secrets has been opened," read Daphne.

". . . enemies of the Heir beware," Drisana finished, "We have to _go._ "

As they had begun to turn in the other direction, though, the rest of the students began pouring out of the Great Hall, so they were forced to stay put or risk looking guilty.

Everyone stood staring at the wall in shock and fear, until McGonagall and Filch came along. Filch was shrieking something about his cat while McGonagall attempted to calm the hysterical man.

* * *

"The Chamber of Secrets," Drisana was saying that night, while all the girls in the dorm huddled around her bed, "is supposed to be a hidden chamber that Salazar Slytherin built in the school. To keep his monster in."

"So the Heir . . ." Hyacinth began to put the pieces together

"Means the Heir of Slytherin. But nobody ever really believed the chamber was _real_ , most thought it was just a myth, because no one's ever been able to find it. Or the supposed monster."

"What _is_ the monster?" asked Tracey with anxiety in her voice.

Shrugging, Drisana replied "No one knows that, either."

" _Great_ , there's a mythical monster on the loose, and nobody knows what it is or where it's hiding," huffed Pansy with irritation.

"That about sums it up," confirmed the platinum blonde.

"Well, we should be alright then, I mean we're Slytherins, so how could _we_ be enemies of the Heir?" reasoned Athena.

This didn't necessarily alleviate anyone's fears, but it was the closest thing to comforting about the whole situation, so they grasped onto it.

* * *

The next morning, Hyacinth received a rather interesting gift. It had been left under her pillow, and when she opened it up, it was a long cloak of dark material that shimmered and looked almost translucent. There was a note.

 _Dear Hyacinth,_

 _The time has long since passed for me to give this to you. I hope you will excuse my tardiness, but I feared what you might purpose it for during your prank war with the Weasley twins last year, and furthermore, I had quite hoped to understand its secrets before returning it. I have had no such luck, but the time has come for another to don this cloak._

 _You see, it belonged once to your father, James. He used it for mischief, of course, but I have every faith you will find grander and more noble purposes to employ it._

 _Yours sincerely,_

 _Snoop Dogg_

"There's _no_ way," Hyacinth muttered, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes and reading the last line again. But nothing changed. It still said it was from Snoop Dogg.

Since that was impossible, she told her mind to start trying to figure out who it could _really_ be from. Who had known her father?

Snape had, but how on earth would Snape have come by something of her father's when they hated each other? And anyway, even if it _were_ Snape, he would have loved for her to have an advantage in the prank war, so that didn't make much sense unless she was missing something.

When she put it on, she found herself _invisible._

"That would've been a nice thing to include in the note as well, Snoop Dogg," she said, but she wasn't actually annoyed at all. In fact, she couldn't believe her luck. A cloak of _invisibility?_ That had to be one of the most useful things _ever._

She decided it would be best not to share that information with her roommates, and merely buried the cloak in the bottom of her trunk while the rest of them were in the bathroom getting ready for the day. Even after a year, their patterns hadn't changed, and Hyacinth tended to be the last one awake.

At breakfast, she noticed Ginny was looking rather ill, but after the grim events of the night before, who wasn't?

* * *

Hermione, Padma Patil, Theo, and Hyacinth all arrived at Advanced Potions right in time, only having to wait a minute or two for Snape to arrive.

"The four of you are here because you have demonstrated a lack of complete and utter failure to understand potions, and as such I have selected you for these advanced lessons which are designed to propel your education in the art of potion-making," drawled the Head of Slytherin, "Should any of you prove me _wrong,_ you will not return to these lessons and shall be free to do whatever you like with your empty block."

They confirmed that they understood, before they divided into partners. Hyacinth, of course, chose Hermione, which left Theo and Padma together.

The first thing he taught them how to brew was Polyjuice Potion.

 **A/N: Second-Year will probably only cover two or three chapters in total including this one, I'm almost finished writing it right now. Also, I feel like I should probably mention this now, in case it wasn't evident: This story _will_ involve femslash. The pairings aren't 100% decided yet, but some of them are, and some of them are femslash pairings. If that's not something you're comfortable with or enjoy reading, I'll understand if you want to stop, but as a general note, no romantic relationships of any kind come into play until at least late third-year. Oh, also, I'm just going to assume most of you are okay with Slytherin!Ginny, because you're already reading a Slytherin alternate-Sorting fic. **

**Thanks for reading, and it should be noted that detailed reviews get detailed replies, so if there's anything you want to know or are confused about that won't spoil anything for me to reveal, please ask.**


	8. Of the Knights and the Queen

**A/N: Sorry for the longer-than-average wait. It wasn't because I wasn't writing, I just didn't have access to my laptop to upload because I haven't been home all week. To try and balance, this chapter is slightly longer than average. Note continued at the end.**

Things got _really_ scary when Muggleborns began to be found petrified. A first-year named Colin Creevey who always had a camera in his hand.

"What petrifies people?" Hermione was muttering to herself, flipping through books upon books of monsters. She was alone, because she hadn't told Hyacinth she would be in the library tonight. Hyacinth had been begging her to just lay low until they figured out who was doing this, but Hermione _knew_ she could find the answer if she looked hard enough.

It was late, though, and the library would be closing soon. Madam Pince was already looking at her sideways, as if to shoo her nonverbally, so Hermione told herself _just one more page._

On the next page was a basilisk. "Deadly upon direct eye contact, but _petrifies_ if contact is indirect."

She quietly squealed in triumph as she hid from Madam Pince and ripped the page out of the book; she had to show McGonagall. Thinking quickly, she Transfigured a mirror to peek around corners with, and gathered her things.

. . .

It was Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil who found her, lying there petrified with a piece of paper crumpled in one hand, a mirror in the other. Her brown eyes were wide open, hair splayed behind her. It was past curfew and Hermione still wasn't in the Tower, so they'd gone looking for her, fearing the worst.

"Lavender," said Parvati in an urgent tone.

"Parvati," she returned.

"Stay here, Lav. I'm going to go get Professor McGonagall."

Just as Parvati was nearing the next corner, Lavender said "Parvati."

"What?"

"Somebody has to tell Hyacinth."

. . .

It was nearly ten forty-five when Astoria came into the dorm inhabited by the second-year Slytherin girls, saying "Hyacinth, there's someone for you outside. A Gryffindor girl."

She was just getting ready for bed, she had on her Slytherin t-shirt and some old gray sweatpants, and her first thought was that it must be Hermione.

"But what in God's name would she be doing out at this hour?" she muttered to herself, prepared to chastise Hermione for being out alone late at night with monster on the loose that targeted Muggleborns.

But when she got out of the common room, it wasn't Hermione.

"Hyacinth, you have to come with me, it's Her-"

Hyacinth was already running towards the Hospital Wing as Parvati, who had done quite a bit of running around at this point, tried to keep up.

When she got there, skidding into the doorway, Professors McGonagall and Dumbledore were already there. Hermione was in a bed, completely still, a paper crushed in one hand.

"Ah, Miss Potter," said Dumbledore.

"Miss Potter, it's very late, you should not have left the Slytherin dorms," reprimanded McGonagall, narrowing her eyes at Parvati.

"Leave the children, Minerva. You didn't _really_ think Miss Patil was going straight back to Gryffindor Tower, did you? After all, she's a Gryffindor through and through."

"And," said Snape as he stepped into the infirmary, "Miss Potter is a Slytherin through and through, and would not have been likely to take attempts to keep her from Miss Granger very well."

He had placed a hand on Hyacinth's shoulder in reassurance, a gesture she knew came purely from the fact that Slytherins took care of their own.

But Hyacinth was more consumed by the sight of Hermione lying there, by the rage that the monster had gotten this far and no one had stopped it or even identified it, and really maybe Drisana was _right_ when she said that Dumbledore was a fool, and -

"Well, Severus, then I expect you can wait with Miss Potter until she is ready to return to the Slytherin dungeon," said the Headmaster.

"Of course, Headmaster," replied Snape smoothly.

McGonagall herded Parvati out of the room, and Dumbledore followed. Snape stood a few feet back, and Hyacinth sat next to Hermione's bed.

She watched her, feeling bubbling hatred for whomever was responsible.

What if Hermione had been _killed?_ The possibility was unforgivable. Against her will, tears began to spill down her cheeks.

"I'll kill whoever did it," she whispered, "and whatever did it."

"It is nothing less than I would expect from one such as yourself. Your loyalty to that girl is fierce. But it would serve you well not to say such things in the company of those that are not possessed of the same nature as you and I."

The Head of Slytherin gave her maybe ten more minutes, before saying that it would be best for everyone for her to get some sleep.

Hyacinth nodded, and tried to steel herself. She took a slow breath, and let Snape escort her back to the dungeon.

. . .

Weeks passed until they were midway through December. Hyacinth worked by herself in Advanced Potions, she barely spoke, all the Slytherin charm she was known for drained away into someone reserved and dark.

The Mandrakes wouldn't be ready until spring, no one had a clue who was behind the monster, and her friends were getting worried.

"All this over bloody _Granger,_ " whined Pansy one night in the common room. Hyacinth, as usual, was in the dorm with her curtains closed around her bed. Tracey had gone to try to console her; she was one of the few people Hyacinth might speak more than a few words to in this state.

"It makes sense," said Athena pragmatically, "You know how much time they spend together."

"But I miss Hyacinth," protested Drisana. Daphne nodded her agreement.

Blaise, meanwhile, had his head in his hands. "Well, then we've got to figure out who did it, don't we? It's simple. We figure it out, tell Hyacinth, she can enact her vengeance, and then we get her back."

"But _how?"_ asked Pansy.

"Can't be that hard," reasoned Theo.

"They've got to be in Slytherin, to be the Heir of Slytherin," added Blaise.

"But that means they're one of ours," said Pansy.

"No," argued Drisana, "They may be Slytherin, but _Hyacinth_ is one of ours more than whoever this is, and I'll hand them to her wrath happily if it means getting her normal again."

Resolved, they formed a tighter huddle and placed a quieting charm around them before beginning to theorize on who it might be.

In a corner, unnoticed, Ginny Weasley watched with slitted eyes.

. . .

It was Christmas break, and Hyacinth had decided to stay at the school. Professor Snape had agreed to tell Aunt Petunia she was sick with dragon pox and couldn't leave the school until she recovered.

She was by Hermione's bedside again. There was no one but a few loners left in the castle to bother her, and so she'd been here all day. The twins had stopped by before they left, but that was the last she'd seen of any of her friends in a few days.

Ginny Weasley had stayed behind too, maybe felt too awkward to go home to her Gryffindor family for break, but Hyacinth wasn't particularly interested in the first-year's life right about now. She spent most of the break by Hermione's side, pausing briefly to mail her friends half-hearted presents. She hadn't even opened what they'd sent her, and when break was over, she still spent most of her time in the Hospital Wing.

A few weeks into January, a thought struck her, and she didn't know how it could have escaped her until now. She gently pried open Hermione's hand and removed the paper that it had been holding for weeks now.

When she opened it, she wanted to slap herself for being so slow.

The monster was a _basilisk._ Of course Hermione would have found out.

"You stupid, silly, genius," Hyacinth murmured, running a thumb across Hermione's cheek.

With reckless abandon that the Slytherin girl wasn't often partial to, she raced towards Snape's office. She was out of breath when she got there, but her urgency was all-consuming. She banged on the door, to be greeted with a Potions Master that was _not at all pleased by this ruckus Miss Potter what in Merlin's name could have possessed you to -_

"It's -a -basilisk," she wheezed out, doubled over. It was then that she realized she was ridiculously out of shape. She offered the crinkled and ripped page.

"Where did you find this?" Snape asked as his eyes scanned the page.

"Her -mione, Professor. It was the - paper she had." Her breath was coming back to her now.

"I shall inform the Headmaster at once. You will come with me, it would be unwise for you to walk the halls alone now that you know this."

They walked briskly to Dumbledore's office, where he was quite surprised to learn what the monster was.

"It should be quite simple to stop it," said the Headmaster. "A rooster crow is fatal to a basilisk. We shall have as many sent in as it takes and set a trap."

"But, Headmaster," interrupted Hyacinth, "How will we know who unleashed the monster."

That was when Professor McGonagall walked in.

"Headmaster, there are several Slytherin students outside who claim they have something very urgent to tell you and Professor Snape."

Dumbledore looked from Snape to McGonagall and back again.

"Very well, Minerva, send them in at once."

Blaise, Tracey, Daphne, and Pansy came careening up the stairwell.

"Headmaster, it's Ginny Weasley," blurted out Pansy, "She's the one who opened the Chamber of Secrets and let loose the monster."

"That is a very serious accusation to make of your Housemate," said Snape, mindful of the fact that Hyacinth had just tensed her entire body and looked ready to spring.

"Professor Snape, we have _proof,_ " said Tracey, "She's got this little diary she carries around, only it's not _her_ diary, there's some kind of dark spirit inside of it, we think it might've possessed her."

"A diary?" asked the Headmaster, suddenly very serious.

"Is there anything else?" asked Snape.

Suddenly all four of the other Slytherins in the room looked at their feet. Hyacinth had yet to say a word, but every atom of her was focused, thinking, putting pieces together.

" _What is it?"_ hissed Snape.

"Well, uh, Athena, Drisana, and Theo might kind of have followed her down into the Chamber, and they might be there right now," admitted Daphne as Blaise scratched his neck.

"They _what?"_ shrieked four voices at once. It was the first time Hyacinth had spoken since their arrival.

. . .

Meanwhile, something very sinister indeed was transpiring in the Chamber of Secrets.

The basilisk stood poised and ready to strike. Ginny Weasley was passed out on the floor, and Athena Rosier, Theodore Nott, and Drisana Malfoy stood face-to-face with a fragment of Tom Riddle's soul, although they didn't fully understand that or what it meant at the time.

"Ah, such precious Slytherins, the lot of you," began the image of the boy, "Ginevra tells me how you took her in. Such loyal Housemates. She tells me other things, too. She tells me of the one called Hyacinth Potter, who defeated the Dark Lord in infancy."

Drisana narrowed her silver eyes. "Hyacinth Potter is much more than whatever she did to the Dark Lord," she declared.

The boy chuckled. "I imagine it seems that way to you. She's also much more to our dear Ginevra, however loathe she might be to admit it to anyone else. I suspect your good friend Miss Potter never even noticed, so consumed is she by that mudblood girl."

"Hyacinth is a good friend," argued Drisana, "And she would behave the same if it were any of us petrified. In fact, she would probably be even _more_ grieved."

"Admirable, Miss Malfoy -yes, you look quite unmistakably like your grandfather -but I wonder if that's true. Haven't you ever questioned her loyalty? Wondered why she spends more time with the mudblood than you?"

"Listen," said Drisana, growing even bolder, "I don't claim to understand her fondness for Granger. She's insufferable as far as I'm concerned, her blood status only adding insult to injury, but when someone is a good friend to you, you forgive them for being friends with Muggleborns."

His eyes slanted to Athena and Theo. "And you? Miss Rosier, Mister Nott, neither of you have ever questioned the Potter girl? Look how fast she abandoned you when the mudblood was petrified. Do you too believe she would do the same for you? That's a lot of credit to give her."

Athena's expression remained blank; she had mastered the art of nonreaction at a very early age, even if her heart was hammering at the shadow of the basilisk that stood behind the boy. To speak would be to encourage him further, so she didn't, but Theo did.

"I don't ever doubt her. You're trying to use Slytherin suspicion against us, but to be honest, it wouldn't even matter if you were right, because Hyacinth isn't the one who unleashed a deadly monster on schoolchildren, so."

The boy frowned. "How very . . . Gryffindor of all of you. I had expected better from my own House. Very well, you may have it your way."

The boy whispered something in Parseltongue to the serpent which the three students were very determined _not_ to look at, because they quite liked being alive thank you very much. And then the boy swirled back into the diary and they could see the shadow of the beast moving forward.

Athena began firing every dark curse Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy had taught her that summer, with the strength of a focused girl that wanted to survive, while Theo and Drisana did their best to attack as well. It was no use, however, and the creature had snapped forward and bitten Theo before any of them knew what had happened.

With a renewed passion, Athena drove it back with curse upon curse while Drisana attempted to tend to Theo's wound.

"Drisana," shouted Athena in between spells, "The venom is fatal, you need to get him out of here _now_ and take him to Dumbledore, because -"

There was the sudden crowing of a rooster, and the beast fell dead before them. Athena whirled around. A few feet to the left of her, Theo was on the ground, and she could already see the poison making its way through his veins as Drisana held him. Behind them, though, was a single rooster, Headmaster Dumbledore, Professor McGonagall, and Fawkes the Phoenix, who emitted a piercing call and proceeded to cry over the body of the bitten boy.

"That will not be necessary, Miss Rosier, although I admire your quick thinking. Mister Nott will be quite alright." The old man stepped forward and retrieved the diary from its place on the floor, tucking it into a pocket without a word about it.

"So, is the monster dead?" asked Drisana.

"Yes, Miss Malfoy. The crowing of a rooster is immediately fatal to a basilisk. I fear you were quite correct in your conclusion that Miss Weasley had been possessed, and I do hope you won't hold it against her."

"Oh. Will she be alright?" Drisana followed.

"In due time, I expect so. For now, we shall take her to the Hospital Wing and alert her parents. Come now, the monster is slain and it would perhaps be best for all of us to never step foot in this chamber again." He levitated Ginny's body and corralled the Slytherin students out of the chamber, McGonagall leading them back to Snape's office, where Snape, Hyacinth, and the others already were.

Reunited into a whole again, the group of friends stood before their Head of House, awaiting whatever reprimand they might receive.

Snape looked at them all for a long moment, his eyes flicking to each of them in turn.

"What you have done today," the Potions Master began, "Was incredibly _dangerous, foolish, and irresponsible._ It is behavior I would expect from Gryffindors at their _most_ reckless. You realize three of you could have very easily _died_ , Mister Nott nearly _did_ die, and while it might serve as a helpful cautionary tale to the rest of you, any of your parents would be _quite distressed_ if you were to die under my care."

Snape took a breath, and exhaled in a disgusted sigh. "When I told you your first year to look after each other, that Slytherin looks out for their own, this is not _exactly_ what I had in mind." He scoffed, muttering "I have half a mind to transfer the lot of you into Gryffindor, since you seem so taken with their brand of absolute buffoonery."

"Can you _do_ that?" Pansy asked in horror. Snape glared at her.

"I can bloody well find a way, because I imagine if I were to put that blasted Hat on any of you right now that is exactly where it would put you! If you were the smart Slytherin students I thought I had been _teaching_ you to be, you would have come straight to Dumbledore or I the very moment you suspected Miss Weasley was being possessed rather than _tail her_ and nearly get yourself murdered -by a giant snake, by the way, can you _imagine_ how embarrassing it would be to the House of Slytherin if three of its students were killed by a _giant snake?_ Dear Merlin, Miss Potter is the only one of you who had the sense to come to an authority upon learning relevant information about the monster, rather than trying to chase it. And rest assured, if I ever catch any of you doing this sort of foolhardy death-mission again, you will be serving detention until the day you all die, which may come sooner than you like. Am I perfectly clear?"

The eight of them nodded in unison, feeling properly taken to task.

"That being said," drawled Snape, "What you all have done today was admirable, and instrumental in the defeat of Slytherin's monster. If we are lucky, it may counteract the fact that it was a Slytherin who awoke the damned thing in the first place, but Slytherins are rarely so lucky. Even so, I will be most willing to look the other way if you should decide to rub the lions' noses in it just a bit."

Snape didn't smile, or give any indication that he had just bestowed what was, from him, glowing praise upon the students. He waved them away, and just before Daphne went to open the door, he said

"Oh, and 100 points to Slytherin. I'd like to see Minerva steal it from me _this_ year."

When they left, Hyacinth was the first to speak. "So, you all have been investigating this for . . . how long, exactly?"

"About a month," answered Blaise.

"It only took you a _month?_ I've been trying to work it out since September!"

"Yeah, well, you tried to do it on your own. It was a lot easier with all of us keeping our eyes peeled," retorted Pansy.

"And then you decided you would go and try to take on the monster?"

"Actually, no, we didn't know what the monster was or what the inside of the chamber looked like. We were just going to follow her, you know, catch her in the act or catch the diary in the act or whatever, but when we got there, there wasn't exactly anywhere to hide," explained Athena.

"Why? Why go to all the trouble?"

It was Tracey who answered. "We missed you."

"And the only way to get you back," added Drisana, "Was to find out what the hell happened to Granger, so we did."

Hyacinth looked at her friends, really looked at them. She had seven Slytherin friends, who had collectively organized and gone to all this trouble because they _missed her._

She felt incredibly grateful and incredibly guilty at the same time. "You -you shouldn't have, Snape was right. Athena, Drisana, and Theo could have died."

Drisana, who had yet to say anything at all, merely launched herself forward and enveloped Hyacinth in a bone-crushing hug, which she returned after a moment of surprise.

"It was worth it if you're normal again. Plus, now we can rub it in to the Gryffindors like Snape said."

. . .

Ginny Weasley was sufficiently traumatized from the whole experience. Subsequently, Hyacinth decided she wouldn't kill the girl for what she'd done to Hermione. It didn't hurt that it turned out to be a piece of Voldemort's soul from when he was seventeen that had possessed her.

Even without being murdered for her actions, Ginny missed classes for nearly three weeks, so overcome was her mind and body by the strain the ordeal had put on her. Most of her classmates were unsympathetic at best, but the Slytherins didn't treat her any differently outside of the dungeon.

Weeks passed, and _finally_ , the Mandrakes were ready.

When Hermione Granger woke up, it was to the sight of her best friend in the world, as well as Professor McGonagall. Hyacinth was holding her hand and squeezing tight.

"Welcome back."

"How -how long have been petrified for?"

Hyacinth bit her lip, her eyes sliding to the side.

"Since early October, Miss Granger. It is now March."

" _What?_ I've missed so much class!" she cried out in horror.

"Now now, Miss Granger, exceptions are being made for those students who have been petrified, so I daresay you have nothing to worry about."

Hermione still seemed stress, but before she could ask McGonagall anything else the Head of Gryffindor quickly made her escape.

Hermione groaned. "Hyacinth, I missed so much _material._ I don't care if the grades are excused, there's so many things I didn't _learn."_

Hyacinth gently rubbed her shoulder. "It's alright, 'Mione. I can help you catch up. I mean, I owe you for all the nights you helped _me_ study anyway, so it's only right."

Hermione smiled with gratitude. "Thanks, Hya. Did they ever figure out who was behind it?"

Hyacinth scratched her neck. "Actually . . . yeah. Drisana and the rest of them did some sleuthing while you were out and, well, it turns out it was Ginny, but not really Ginny, she got possessed by a diary that used to belong to Voldemort. I guess a piece of him lived in it and was trying to revive itself through her. I don't know how the diary ended up in her hands, though."

Hermione appeared thoughtful. "Well, there's no way it was an accident, someone must have given it to her on purpose before the school year started."

"Yeah, but who would've had it?"

"Obviously a Death Eater. The problem is that we don't necessarily know who all of the Death Eaters were."

Hyacinth shrugged. "A mystery. I'm sure we'll figure it out eventually, we just need more information."

Hermione nodded. A new riddle to solve was more comforting to her than anything.

Hyacinth stayed with her that whole day, but she wasn't the only one who came to see the brightest witch of their age. Tracey stopped by early in the afternoon, followed by Parvati and Lavender. Last of all came the Weasley twins, bearing hugs for Hermione and (nonpranked) chocolate.

"Y'know, for a band of sneaking Slytherins," began Fred.

"You and your pals sure did something pretty noble," finished George. Hyacinth smiled, rolling her eyes.

"Thanks," she said, "But I actually did very little."

"Oh, we know," they said in time, "but you still helped."

George leaned towards Hermione conspiratorially. "Hyacinth barely did anything all year while you were down."

"It was touching, but we kind of missed her too," added Fred.

Hyacinth felt further guilt. She had kind of dropped out of everything for a while.

"It was driving me mad," she explained after a moment, "Trying to figure out what happened, what was going on, and considering the fact that you were lying defenseless in the Hospital Wing with a Muggleborn-hungry monster on the loose that no one knew anything about, I couldn't help worrying that it might come back to finish the job."

Fred and George had grown very serious, which was almost unheard of.

"I'm alright, Hya."

"Thank Merlin for that. Because if you weren't . . ."

The twins looked to the ground, knowing that if the basilisk had actually harmed Hermione, they would've had a hard time protecting their baby sister from Hyacinth's fury.

But fate had smiled on everyone, it seemed, for the year wrapped up with much less drama than it began.

. . .

On the final morning before they were to leave Hogwarts again, Drisana dragged Hyacinth up to the Astronomy Tower for another sunrise.

"Don't you ever use this thing for like, actual _astronomy?"_

"Oh please," Drisana retorted, "Astronomy is for centaurs and fools."

Hyacinth pursed her lips, knowing that astronomy had a lot of importance to _scientists,_ but that wasn't the sort of thing she could explain to Drisana without about six hours and some picture books, so she dropped it.

"Anyway, how do you feel? Second year down," prompted Hyacinth.

"It's strange. Despite all the horror and whatnot, the time really flew by."

Hyacinth didn't feel the same. Most of the fall and winter had been maddening.

"Hyacinth, did you ever notice that Ginny Weasley had a little crush on you this year?"

"No." Hyacinth was shocked. "She did?"

"According to Riddle she did. Riddle said you never noticed because you were so focused on Granger. Is -was that true?"

"It's true that I didn't notice, and it's true that it may have been because I was so concerned with Hermione, but not in the way you're implying. Truthfully, I haven't had much interest for things of that nature. At least, not yet anyway."

Drisana stared out ot the rising sun for a few seconds, and then turned her eyes to Hyacinth. "Good, because I have to share enough of my time with you as it is. The last thing I need is for you to go gallivanting around with romances willy-nilly."

Hyacinth laughed a booming laugh. "And I suppose you're still determined to woo Professor McGonagall."

Drisana leaned back and sighed satirically. "There's just something about the constant detentions and point deductions that really won me over."

Hyacinth was tempted to push her off the Astronomy Tower just then, but knew it would be useless with the wards, so settled for a shoulder-shove.

"Actually," said Drisana, "It's more than likely I'll get married off to some loser just to produce the next Malfoy heir."

"That sounds sad."

"I guess. I've got time before that, though. At least until I graduate. And even then, I'll be the Lady of the House and as the heir, I'll be the one in charge."

"Still, you don't get a choice?"

Drisana shrugged. "Maybe. I can present Mother and Father with options, but ultimately, if they say _no_ there's very little I can do, short of getting disowned. Regardless, all they _really_ care about is that it's someone pureblood, from a good family. There's no shortage of purebloods with manners, so it'll probably work out."

The sun hoisted itself above the skyline.

"Hyacinth?"

"Yeah?"

"I still don't really understand why you care so much for that Muggleborn girl, but at this point I trust your judgment. I mean, the rest of your friends are pretty cool, in my very humble opinion," here she pulled a cheeky grin, "So I'll leave you alone about it now, if you're really sure you must be her friend."

"Thank you," said Hyacinth. Drisana had come a long way -she hadn't even called Hermione a mudblood since she'd been petrified. It was by no means perfect, but it was progress.

Hyacinth was moved to believe that Drisana would progress even further by the time she was done.

"Oh," said Drisana, "We're having everyone over again this summer -Mother's dying to get her hands on you, as I'm sure you can imagine. She wants to take you shopping again."

Hyacinth suppressed a groan.

"I know, I know, but she found a new shop and she's already taken me through it. Between you and me, I think you're her favorite out of my friends."

"Well, she's my favorite out of my friends' mothers, so."

"Good, she ought to be."

Here they giggled together.

Drisana stretched, flexing like a cat as she did so. "We should probably head to breakfast. We'll have to finish packing after."

Hyacinth stood, and held out her hand to help Drisana up. The blonde took it, and they walked like that all the way down to the Great Hall.

 **A/N Part Two: Alright so that's pretty much most of second-year. I'm already writing third year, but due to my personal situation I can't guarantee update consistency for several days -this is not to say I am not writing, I still have a lot of inspiration and motivation for this story. Thank you for reading, and reviews are generally appreciated. Also, sorry if it seems rushed or there were too many time-skips -once I finished first year, I'm pretty much trying to power through to when things get real intense, which isn't til the later years, so second and third year won't really be as long as first.**


	9. Of the Intangible and the Alternate

**A/N: I don't have a** ** _good_** **excuse as to why this is so late, besides the fact that I was across the country without laptop access for the past few weeks. Anyways, this one's a bit longer than usual, and the next one should be up very soon.**

 **Also, I wrote this chapter almost two months ago, and in case you're wondering how far ahead I am in the story, I'm already halfway through fourth year. I never stopped writing, and if I ever** ** _do,_** **you'll know because I'll upload the last chapter I wrote and let you know.**

 **That being said, school is about to start so updates might be even more sporadic than usual.**

 **Thanks for sticking around.**

Later, Tracey, Hermione, and Hyacinth were in their usual compartment when Ginny Weasley came knocking, for the second time.

"Hyacinth," she said quietly, "Can I speak to you?"

Tracey and Hermione made eye contact. "We're gonna go to the bathroom," said Hermione, Tracey nodding and following her out.

Ginny sat across from her. "I wanted to apologize. I've already spoken with everyone that's been petrified, but I know what it did to you, with Granger gone. I don't -I don't want you to think that I -"

"Ginny," she interrupted, holding up a hand. "You don't need to apologize."

"But -but you were so upset, and so furious, and -"

"Ginevra."

Ginny stopped short.

"Dumbledore explained everything to me. It's alright." It wasn't alright at all, but it wasn't really Ginny's _fault,_ so Hyacinth would set aside her feelings about whomever _had_ set an ungodly terror upon Hogwarts until she learned whom it was.

Ginny suddenly shot across and hugged her. Hyacinth was taken aback, before slowly and awkwardly patting her on the back, hoping the girl wouldn't begin to cry. It was no secret she'd been unstable after the ordeal in the Chamber of Secrets.

Thankfully, she didn't cry, just ran off to sit with Astoria and some other first-years.

Tracey and Hermione returned after a few minutes, eyeing her tentatively as they entered.

"What was all that about?" asked Hermione.

"Probably asking Hyacinth out," theorized Tracey with a giggle at the green-eyed girl's expense.

"Oh, ha ha, like I'd ever go that route. Can you imagine how awkward meeting the family would be. 'Hi, it's me, Hyacinth Potter, you've probably heard terrible things about me from your youngest son, but the other kids seem to like me well enough!'"

"That's not the worst it could be," countered Hermione,

"Oh?" said Hyacinth deviously, "And what _is_ the worst it could be? Don't tell me you're having a tragic love story behind my back, Granger, you haven't even been conscious most of the year."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I am not having _any_ romance thank you very much, but if I _were_ I'm sure you can imagine how _that_ family meeting would go."

"Depends who you date," said Tracey thoughtfully, "Depends what their family's like, you've just got to be careful."

"Yeah," agreed Hermione with a sigh, "I've got to be careful."

. . .

Hyacinth stayed at Hermione's house for the first time that summer.

Mr. and Mrs. Granger (alternatively known as Dr. and Dr. Granger) were lovely people, who seemed to know absolutely nothing about the notion of blood purity.

"Hermione tells us Hogwarts is absolutely lovely," began Mrs. Granger at dinner. Hyacinth cut her eyes to Hermione before responding.

"It is. I really love it."

"Yes, you know, we were quite worried about boarding school, because Hermione's never had the easiest time making friends," confided Mr. Granger, to which Hermione merely looked down into her plate.

"But," continued Mrs. Granger, "She's told us everyone at Hogwarts is just wonderful."

Hyacinth didn't even need to think about it. If Hermione was hiding the prejudice she faced for having Muggle parents from her Muggle parents, she had no reason to expose it.

"They are. It's exceptional really, the kindness we've both been shown from everyone, students, teachers, even the Headmaster."

Hermione squeezed her hand under the table, and her parents continued to gush about how they loved McGonagall and Dumbledore and thought they were some of the nicest people they'd ever met.

. . .

"If I told them," confessed Hermione later when they were safely tucked away in her room, "They might see it as a reason to keep me home and in Muggle school. Especially if they knew about You-Know-Who and the war."

Hyacinth hadn't thought of that. It hadn't occurred to her that Aunt Petunia might see the war as a reason to keep her away from the magical world.

. . .

"Actually, they don't really have much of a choice," explained Theo a few weeks later at Malfoy Manor. They were poolside again. "As far as the Ministry of Magic is concerned, Muggles aren't really fit guardians for magical children. They let them keep custody during school breaks, of course, but it's more out of courtesy than anything. Technically speaking, you and Granger are both wards of the school, meaning your Head of House and Dumbledore are considered your guardians."

"I feel like that's something someone should have mentioned by now," said Hyacinth.

Theo shrugged. "It doesn't really come up unless there's a need for it. If you got into legal trouble, for example, they wouldn't speak with your aunt, they'd speak with Dumbledore and Snape. It's the same with Muggleborns."

Hyacinth thought about it. Honestly, it kind of made sense. Muggles weren't really capable of teaching a magical child about the magical world, or of helping that child navigate the magical world.

"Hyacinth," Drisana cut in, "Mother would like to see you."

"Have fun," said Theo with a smirk as Hyacinth dragged herself inside the Manor.

Narcissa Malfoy was waiting, purse in hand. "Come now, dear Hyacinth, I'll be having no trickery this year. Your birthday's coming up and I've found a lovely shop I'd like to take you to. We'll be back before supper, never fear."

And that was how Hyacinth spent most of the day being prodded by seamstresses and pushed into silk and chiffon dressed.

In the end, she had an entirely new outfit that she was ordered to wear for her birthday.

Following that, Narcissa took her to a bookshop. "Now," she said as they entered, "Severus tells me you do quite well at potions, and while I'm sure he's an effective teacher, we can't allow you to slip away from practice during the summer."

She picked up a book entitled _Potioneering for the Flexible-Minded_. It looked innocuous enough, but Hyacinth doubted that it was.

"Thank you, Mrs. Malfoy," she said, "But I'm not allowed to do magic underage, I'm the only witch in the house."

"Hyacinth, dear, that doesn't apply to potions. The magic is in the ingredients, not the witch, so it's much harder for them to track. And even if somehow you were caught, you've nothing to fear, Lucius would speak on your behalf, you'd hardly get more than a slap on the wrist."

Reluctantly, Hyacinth agreed. She wasn't sure how Aunt Petunia would react to her brewing potions in the house, but then again, it would give her an advantage with Snape. It was strange, but it was exceptionally validating to receive praise from a teacher so opposed to giving it.

"And best keep this within your circle," Narcissa advised her, "This book can be a little . . . unsettling to those unused to such things, and we wouldn't want anyone getting the wrong idea about you, my dear."

Hyacinth wasn't sure what to say. She knew Narcissa and Lucius had been helping Athena learn Dark offensive curses since the summer prior, but it was hard to reconcile the image of socialite Narcissa, so obsessed with dresses and high heels, with this Narcissa who taught twelve-year-olds combat magic and gave them books on what were probably Dark potions.

"But," Drisana would always say, "Dark magic doesn't mean a Dark witch or wizard. Sometimes things get labeled Dark just for being powerful."

Hyacinth wasn't the quickest to believe that. Maybe it was true on some level, but once you started using a little bit of Dark magic, it didn't seem hard to snowball into a villain.

That being said, how bad could _potions_ be? Considering the fact that things like Felix Felicis, Polyjuice, and Veritaserum weren't labeled Dark, when they could be used for failproof success, impersonating someone, and forcing someone to spill their deepest secrets, maybe things _were_ a little backwards.

So she said thank you, and took the book, and tucked it away in her trunk when they got back to the Manor.

. . .

That night, after dinner, Drisana came to her guest room.

"Hya," she said quietly, rubbing her eyes, "I can't sleep."

Hyacinth herself was already in the sleeping shorts and t-shirt she typically wore to bed in the summer, and her hair was tied back. "Why not?"

Shrugging, Drisana pushed past her into the room. "I just can't, and I'm bored. What are you doing?"

"Uh, getting ready for _bed,_ Sana." She didn't know where the nickname came from. She had never called, nor heard anyone call Drisana by anything other than her full first name (or Miss Malfoy, if they were at school). Perhaps it had merely slipped out in her fatigue.

Drisana's eyes widened, but then she smiled. It was different from her typical smirk. It was the kind of smile she might have at six a.m. while the sun was rising and she was pulling Hyacinth to the top of the Astronomy Tower. The kind of smile she rarely let show.

"Well, that's boring. Did you bring your violin?"

"Yeah, but it's late, and the sound will wake up Daphne, she's the next room over."

"Oh please, Daphne doesn't sleep by herself _ever_. Can't stand the silence or the solitude. She's probably with Pansy or Athena as we speak. Regardless, I can cast a quieting charm. _Please,_ Hya, you play so well."

Hyacinth blinked. " _Fine._ But only a couple of songs, and then I need sleep. Your mother put me through the wringer today, you know."

"Yes, but you got such an _exquisite_ dress out of it."

"Not quite as exquisite as the potions book, though," she replied as she began to remove her shiny violin from its case. This wasn't the first time Drisana had begged her to play for her, so she'd gotten into the habit of bringing it to the Manor with her.

She played a few slow, sweet melodies, and Drisana settled onto her bed, staring at her with wide silver eyes.

"What?" Hyacinth asked when Drisana didn't drop her gaze.

"I wish I'd had the patience to learn an instrument," the blonde admitted, "But I'd always get annoyed with the teachers Mother tried to hire. Wanted to be doing magic."

Hyacinth giggled at the mental image of a tiny Drisana throwing tantrums at piano or violin teachers, asking for a wand or a broomstick instead.

"Well, we can't _all_ be musical prodigies like me," teased Hyacinth. Drisana rolled her eyes and swatted her on the arm.

"Night, Hya," she said as she left.

Hyacinth went to bed, smiling to herself at the absurdity of Drisana Malfoy.

. . .

Her birthday came and went in much the same way as the previous, and soon enough she found herself on the train back to Hogwarts. There was a strange man in their typical compartment, but there also weren't really any other open compartments, and the man was asleep, after all, so they sat and left him alone. He looked raggedy anyhow.

Tracey came barreling into the compartment, and then stopped short. "Who's that?"

"Dunno," replied Hyacinth, "He was in here already, but he's been asleep, and there wasn't anywhere else to sit."

"Um, alright. Hya, have you heard about Sirius Black?"

"Who?" asked she and Hermione in unison.

" _Sirius Black._ He's escaped from Azkaban!"

"Who is that, exactly?"

"You really don't know?"

Hyacinth shook her head.

"Sirius Black was . . . well, he was good friends with your parents, and he ended up betraying them to You-Know-Who."

Hyacinth narrowed his eyes. "He was a Death Eater?"

"That's what they say. I mean, things like that get blown up in the papers, but he's on the loose and they're saying he's after _you."_

 _Of course he is,_ thought Hyacinth, _because one normal school year would be too much to ask for._

Hermione's eyes had widened in alarm, and she looked at the raggedy man asleep on the other side of the compartment. "Is that -that's not -"

"No," assured Tracey, "Black's got long, black hair, and this man might look a mess, but he doesn't look like a mess that just broke out of prison."

Suddenly, Hyacinth felt a rolling tide of despair wash over her. Like all the light, all the life was being sucked out of her. From the looks of her friends, they felt it too. The whole train had gone quiet and dark. All Hyacinth could think of was misery -the months she'd spent in cold fear for Hermione, the guilt she'd had upon discovering her friends had taken on a piece of Voldemort's soul and almost a basilisk for _her,_ the distaste she had for the elitism of Drisana and Pansy and some of the others and the internal conflict it led to, the sad nights where she missed Aunt Petunia, the sadder nights where she wished her _parents_ were there.

And then she was seeing things. A high, cold voice. A flash of green light and terrible cold. Then, a cupboard door slamming in front of her. A fat round boy twisting her arm. A flattened face on the back of another's head -but these things had never happened.

That was when the raggedy man woke up with a start, just as a dark and horrid creature approached. The man shouted " _Expecto patronum!"_ and the silver form of a wolf leapt into the air, chasing the creature away.

The man dusted himself off, and examined the three shaken students. Quickly, he went into his trunk and retrieved a few bars of chocolate, passing them to the girls.

"Dementor," said the man, "Horrible things, truly. They feed on one's happiest memories."

"Right," said Hermione, "And who are you, exactly, if you'll excuse the directness?"

"Of course. Professor Lupin. Defense Against the Dark Arts." He looked at Hyacinth directly for the first time, and appeared taken aback for a moment, but the expression left almost instantly, and the new professor excused himself.

"Well, at least this one seems to know which way's up," offered Hyacinth.

"Maybe he won't give Athena migraines," added Tracey with an amused smile.

"But what on _Earth_ was a Dementor doing on the Hogwarts express?" Hermione wondered.

"Heard they're keeping them on the grounds this year, to keep Black away," answered Tracey, "One probably got off-course, they're not meant to be within range of the students."

. . .

"Do you think I should show Snape the potions book Narcissa gave me?" murmured Hyacinth to Theo while they were on their way to advanced potions.

Theo looked from side to side, as if checking for anyone who may have been listening in. "Yes. Snape was always trusted, if you take my meaning "

Vaguely, an understanding settled to her. There was that familiar feeling of puzzle pieces clicking into place. " _Oh."_ Was _that_ why Snape had hated her father so much? It was no secret her father had been an auror. And if Snape had been on the other side of things . . .

Theo said nothing more, his blue eyes shifting again.

When she showed Snape the book, right after their advanced class, he looked up at her with calculating eyes.

"Miss Potter . . ."

"Professor Snape."

"Narcissa Malfoy bought this for you, I imagine?"

"Yes, sir."

"I trust she instructed you to be careful whom you tell about this book?"

"Of course, sir."

"And you've already brewed some of these?"

"Yes, Professor. Mrs. Malfoy taught me how to brew Draught of the Living Dead and Felix Felicis over the summer."

"And you succeeded?"

"Mrs. Malfoy seemed to think so, sir."

Snape actually laughed at that. "Very well. If you're really that interested in Potions, you may find a free time and come use the lab. I shall watch over your progress, and if you do acceptably I'll continue to teach you beyond what anyone else in your year is learning, even your fellows in advanced. Are these terms acceptable, Miss Potter?"

It wasn't that she was _particularly_ interested in Potions, it was that Theo's words from second-year were still ringing in her ears: _If you have the chance to advance yourself, you take it._ And she didn't see any of the _other_ professors offering her advanced lessons, so for now she'd take what she could get. Besides, there was a _lot_ one could do with a potion. Liquid luck, for example, sounded like maybe the most useful thing ever, and she now had five vials of it from the cauldron she'd brewed over the summer. Narcissa hadn't let her keep all of it, claiming that so much luck in the hands of one Slytherin was bound to be disastrous.

"Yes, Professor."

. . .

It was the first Defense lesson of the year, and Athena was bouncing her leg with nerves, hoping to Merlin this teacher wasn't as much of a narcissistic lunatic as the previous one.

Luckily, he wasn't. Professor Lupin actually seemed like he might have a handle on how to teach a class, although she wasn't exactly foaming at the mouth for their first lesson.

Boggarts. She knew vaguely what they were, Mother had told her once, but she'd never been face to face with one. As far as she knew, the House Elves took care of any stray magical pest that might somehow find its way into Rosier Manor.

So, that left her with the question: What _was_ her biggest fear? Her classmates thought her fearless. Athena, the heart of a Gryffindor and the mind of a Slytherin. Athena, who started a dueling club and knew Dark curses and hexes and would probably go toe-to-toe with You-Know-Who if she ever saw any advantage in it, whispered some of the Ravenclaws in her year.

So what was she afraid of?

"Fear is a tricky thing," explained the professor long before they would begin trying to tackle the creature, "Generally, most people are afraid of more than just one thing in this world. Unless you have one fear that is clearly dominant over the rest, you may not be certain what your worst fear is. That being said, I would like to remind everyone that while some of us may have fears that seem silly to others, and some of us may have fears that seem very serious, _all_ of them are someone's worst fear, so please be kind to each other. Now, the counter-curse for a boggart is ' _Riddikulus',_ but to use it properly you must envision your fear as something laughable, something entirely the opposite of scary." He then used Neville Longbottom as an example, whose worst fear was Professor Snape.

Personally, Athena felt sorry for the students in other Houses who only knew Snape as a cold and cruel Potions teacher -which he could be, but you had to understand his personality like the Slytherins did. He was reserved by nature, and snide, but that didn't mean heartless.

Longbottom then forced the image of Snape into his grandmother's clothes, which even the Slytherins had to admit was amusing.

Then it was Granger's turn. Her worst fear was something very sad indeed. It was Hyacinth, dead.

Granger was a mudblood. Athena might have been raised with a little more tact than some of her counterparts, but she still knew right from wrong. Granger was wrong, she was someone who intruded on their world trampled all over magical tradition and customs, and only increased their risk of exposure to the Muggle world. Every time another Muggleborn's parents (and siblings, if they had them, and whoever else _those_ Muggles deigned to tell) were told about magic, that increased the likelihood that word of magic with actual _proof_ to it might start spreading. Athena wasn't dumb enough to believe that propaganda about Muggleborns being Muggles who "stole" magic -first of all, how would so many Muggles even find out about magic, let alone figure out how to steal it for themselves? -but she did know there was a very good reason why one ought not to trust or engage themselves with Muggleborns. They came from a different place, they would never be societally equal even if they were born with the same magical abilities. There was no comparison between a child of Muggles and a child of a family that had been accumulating and cultivating magical knowledge and tradition for _centuries._ Even Hyacinth was above the former, despite having been raised by Muggles, because she was still the heir of an old and powerful magical line regardless of who her mother was.

And despite all this, something about Granger's boggart hit home. Another Muggleborn had gone before her, and _his_ biggest fear had been Professor Dumbledore snapping his wand and telling him no, sorry, there's been a mistake, you're not really a wizard after all, we'll have to wipe your memories and send you home now. One would have expected something similar from Granger, but instead there was this. Hyacinth Potter lying there dead.

Athena knew, of course, what her own biggest fear was, had known for years, and it wasn't a dead Hyacinth, or a dead any of her friends for that matter, but there was something you had to respect about people who loved the same people you did, enough that a world without them was their worst fear. There was something impossible to hate about Granger in that instant, mudblood though she was.

Granger stood there, horrified, unable to move or even speak the counter-curse. It was the first time any of them could remember (besides broomstick riding) that the girl hadn't naturally excelled at something.

Eventually, Lupin stood in front of her and cast the counter. Hyacinth herself looked shaken, and stared at Granger with emerald eyes.

Next was Hyacinth, the first of the pack of Slytherins, but before she could go, Lupin stopped her and told her it might be better for her to do hers after class. She narrowed her eyes at this, but didn't protest.

Then it was Athena's turn. She closed her eyes, counted to three, could already hear the complete silence from the Slytherins behind her and the scattered giggles from the Gryffindors off to the side as her boggart took form.

One. Two. Three.

Athena Rosier opened her eyes to the form of Alastor Moody before her. Her eyes instinctively went to the prosthetic leg, the leg that had been taken by Evan Rosier during the battle in which Moody took his life.

Fear and deep deep hatred bloomed in the forefront of her mind. She could already hear the "Death Eater's brat," mutters from the Gryffindors, but she did what she'd been taught to do: ignore the outward, focus on what you can control. She could control herself and this boggart.

 _A leg is no price for a life._

She shoved the fear somewhere where it wouldn't hold her back, tried to envision the paranoid ex-Auror who'd murdered her father while she was still in the cradle as anything comical.

" _Riddikulus!"_ Alastor Moody became something shrank and shriveled, no bigger than a baby, and grotesque. Hideous, but not scary, not to Athena. Just the pathetic truth that she knew the man to be.

When she looked at Professor Lupin, there was something sad in his eyes.

 _I've no use for your pity,_ she thought darkly, before going and standing next to Hyacinth.

Hyacinth took her hand, squeezing firmly, and Athena had to keep herself from squeezing back because the force would have been bone-crushing.

They watched, as their peers went and faced their own worst fears. Pansy was afraid of rats, Daphne vampires. Tracey's was revealing; it was herself, at first appearing for all intents and purposes the same until she lifted up her left sleeve and revealed the Dark Mark. A gasp ran through the class, and Tracey looked on the point of tears as she screamed the counter-curse. Blaise's was a man whom Athena vaguely remembered meeting a young age, one of his mother's husbands, who was now deceased. Theo's was his father Lord Nott, telling him that he was a disappointment to the memory of his mother, and that it was his fault she was dead, and the dreadful image carried on like that until Theo mustered the will for the counter-curse.

Theo was smart and sly and ambitious, and Slytherin through and through, but that didn't mean he wasn't still soft in the center, and Athena felt (not for the first time) a sense of kinship between her and Theo, both Death Eater's brats, both without a parent, both pushed into dark roles for their lives before they'd even been born.

And what choice do we get, in the parts we play? How much of an option was there, for people like her and Theodore Nott, with parents killed by the side that claimed to be the Light? Maybe they did have a choice, but when everyone expects you to be Dark, it almost makes you want to prove them right just to show them how dark it can _really_ get.

So then, where did that leave Hyacinth Potter? Parents of the Light who were murdered by the Dark Lord in his failed quest to murder her. Raised by Muggles. Where did her ultimate loyalties lie?

It was tricky. Hyacinth had chosen Slytherin -you didn't stall the Hat for _that_ long without getting some measure of a say in the matter -and she surrounded herself with Slytherins. She had never estranged or alienated herself from the rest of Slytherin, but at the same time, she'd often chosen the company of that mudblood and some other Gryffindors. There was nothing _wrong_ with Brown and Patil, but the Weasley twins were children of the Light, and Gryffindor tended to lean that way.

So, what was she playing at? Athena looked at the girl next to her with the lightning scar who still hadn't released her hand.

In any case, dark things were stirring, anyone with eyes could see that, and they'd all have to pick a side sooner or later.

. . .

After class, Hyacinth found herself the only student remaining.

"Er -sorry, Professor, but why didn't you let me do my boggart with the rest of the class?" she asked.

Lupin looked at her carefully. "I would think a Slytherin would be glad not to have her deepest fear exposed to a room full of her peers."

"Well, yes, of course sir, but why?"

"Forgive me, but I'll explain after you face the boggart. Ready?"

She nodded, taking a slow breath, and he released the creature.

Hyacinth found herself in front of Daphne -no, Drisana -no, Athena, -no, Pansy, -no, Tracey -no, Theo, -no, Blaise. Every few seconds it morphed to a different one of her Slytherin friends, and all of them in black hooded robes, holding a mask in one hand and revealing a Dark Mark on the opposite wrist.

 _It's not real. It's not real. It's not real. That is not them, that is not their future, there is still time to change the course of fate._

Tears gathered but not falling yet, she shouted the counter with deadly force, and collapsed to the ground with the weight of it, the images seared into her brain.

Lupin appeared surprised, but not shocked.

"I confess, that was not what I expected. However, I am still glad you did not do that in front of the class, I can only imagine the ensuing bickering. Why on Earth the Headmaster finds it so amusing to schedule classes with Gryffindor and Slytherin together, I will never know." The professor helped her to her feet, and Hyacinth took in a ragged breath as she dusted herself off. It occurred to her that boggarts would make an interesting offensive weapon, if they could be controlled and if the target did not realize what it was.

"What did you expect, sir?"

"I -well, I expected He Who Must Not Be Named. Alternatively, I thought perhaps it might Involve Miss Granger, the way hers involved you, and I thought we'd seen enough dead students for one day. And then, of course, came Miss Davis, and I thought that there were any number of terrible fears you might have, and in the event that it _was_ You-Know-Who, it would be better for the whole class not to see him appear."

"Yes, well . . ." Hyacinth did not know what to say. There were worse things in this world then a raving psychopath intent on ruling the world -those things, primarily, were the people who enabled those psychopaths to gain power. People like the Death Eaters. You could hardly blame her for being afraid that her friends might grow into their predecessors.

"It says something very noble about you, Hyacinth, that your worst-case-scenario is one in which your friends have joined the Dark side."

She wanted to tell the professor that she wasn't intending to be noble, she was just trying to keep her friends in touch with humanity, and that if all her work came to naught and they all gave in to the monster that called, that was the worst-case.

"They have better purposes than utter Darkness," she muttered. It was true that not all Dark magic was necessarily evil, but the Dark side meant something had gone very wrong inside of you.

"Indeed."

"Uh, Professor Lupin, I was wondering if you might teach me the Patronus charm?" Hermione had later found out and told her that name of the charm Lupin had used to shoo the Dementor, and it seemed like a very useful bit of magic to have on hand when Dementors roamed the grounds.

He appeared shocked now. "That is a very advanced charm, Hyacinth. Something even grown wizards fail at, we don't attempt it in class until sixth or seventh year."

"Even so, I'd like to try. Besides, the Defense position is cursed and it would be wise to learn from a competent teacher while I have one, because Merlin knows who Professor Dumbledore will dig up next year."

Lupin laughed, and it was strange to see an expression of joy across the raggedy man's face.

"Alright. Let's begin."

"Now?"

"Do you have a class to get to?"

"No, sir, not until after lunch."

"Well, I don't have another class til then either, so we best start now. Now then, to conjure a Patronus, you must bring to mind your happiest memory, something of pure joy. If there is any unhappiness tingeing it, it will not work." He then demonstrated the proper wand movements and his silver wolf leapt into being.

She wasn't sure what her happiest memory was, but she had one in mind. She closed her eyes and pictured it. She was small, and Duncan was there, and they were at the playground at primary school. And a pale boy shoved her and made a comment about Indians, and Duncan punched the boy straight in the jaw. " _Expecto patronum!"_

She opened her eyes and there was thin silver mist flowing out of her wand. The professor was taken aback. "That was -that was very good. Do you have anything happier?"

She closed her eyes and remembered the day Hermione had woken up, the light at the end of months of darkness without her, those brown eyes blinking into consciousness and her best friend was _back,_ and she screamed " _Expecto patronum!"_

There it was. A moose stood before them, not yet fully grown, antlers just starting to grow.

"That's interesting," murmured the professor, "And excellent work. I -to produce a fully corporeal patronus, at your age."

She stared at the physical embodiment of her happiness in this world. It was probably important that the happiest memory she could bring to mind involved Hermione, but they were best friends after all. What else could one expect?

A moose. Huh.

"You know, your father's was a stag."

"You knew my father?"

"Quite well. Your mother's was a doe, interestingly."

"They're symbolic, aren't they sir? Representative of our lightest selves?"

"Indeed. If I recall correctly, the moose represents balance."

. . .

She had decided it would be best to keep her newly-learned charm a secret, at least for now. There was no point in letting everyone know what you could do. It was the same reason she and Theo didn't exactly go around bragging about being in advanced potions.

So when she met up with her friends at lunch, she just explained that the boggart had taken longer than expected.

Drisana looked at her awkwardly. The blonde's boggart had been quite sad, actually -it had been Hyacinth, telling her that she'd never like her as much as Hermione, that she would always choose Hermione over her.

Green eyes met gray. What could one say about that? How do you reassure someone whose deepest fear is you leaving them?

In all the time she'd spent befriending Drisana, all the time she'd been theorizing about how to spread some tolerance among the blood purists, she hadn't expected the attachment.

But then, how could she not? How could you spend three years getting close to someone and be surprised when they loved you?

And be surprised to find that you were attached as well? No, she should've figured this would come, but of course it was an advantage. It was always advantageous to be loved.

She reached across the table and took Drisana's hand in much the same way she had to Athena during Defense class, lightly squeezing. Drisana blushed and looked down, but didn't drop her hand.

. . .

Then came Care of Magical Creatures. Hyacinth was taking that and Ancient Runes for electives, because she was loathe to subject herself to Divination.

Incidentally, Professor Kettleburn had decided the prior year would be his last, so the groundskeeper Hagrid was teaching the class now. Hyacinth didn't harbor the distaste that some of her peers did for the man -for all intents and purposes he seemed nice, if a little irresponsible. And truthfully she was rather interested in the hippogriff lesson.

Hagrid explained that you had to be respectful of hippogriffs, otherwise they wouldn't like you, and Drisana was complaining the whole time under her breath about the fact that the textbook _bit_ her.

Then, Seamus Finnigan gave a demonstration. The white hippogriff called Buckbeak even let him ride it.

Drisana, of course, took this opportunity to prove herself, and strode towards the animal with the overconfidence only a girl who'd been raised to see herself as royalty all her life could have in the face of a regal magical creature.

"It's just an animal," she sneered. It wasn't the Malfoy girl's most appealing moment, to be sure. Hyacinth was torn between warning her to be careful and letting her proceed making a fool of herself.

She decided to let fate play out. Sometimes you have to let people make their own mistakes.

Drisana stalked forward towards Buckbeak, who was looking at her with narrowed eyes.

Drisana, of course, ended up being bitten by the animal, which led to Hyacinth and Blaise taking her to the infirmary.

Hyacinth might have laughed, if it didn't look like Drisana's arm had been broken.

Madam Pomfrey quickly saw to the arm, saying the bruises would still be there but the fracture was fixed.

"It _bit_ me!" Drisana complained on the walk to lunch. "Stupid bloody bird, you can bet my father will be hearing about this."

Hyacinth held in a giggle and rubbed Drisana's uninjured arm soothingly. Blaise smirked at her with full lips and slit brown eyes.

. . .

"Honestly," said Hermione when Hyacinth relayed the story to her that night in the library, "You'd think she'd have a shred of respect for it, seeing as it's a _magical_ creature."

"Yes, well, she has quite an ego, even still," said Hyacinth, half disapproval and half affection.

Hermione shook her head with a sigh. "I suppose we can't help how we're raised."

"No," agreed Hyacinth, "but we can help what we do about it."

Hermione looked at her with big brown eyes. "Sometimes I forget how wise you can be, Hya."

"I don't know how," she retorted with feigned arrogance, to which Hermione giggled and gave her a light shove.

That was when the twins came in. Hyacinth hadn't seen them much since the end of the previous school year. It was strange, to think they were now in fifth year, but they were the same as they'd always been. Fred and George Weasley would ever be the jokesters, the only difference being they were more advanced now.

At the moment, they were looking rather miffed at being in the library at all.

"Hiya, Hya," they said. George sat down next to her, and Fred took the seat across from him.

She rolled her eyes. "And exactly how long have you been waiting to use that one?"

"Pretty much since we met you," admitted Fred as he looked over Hermione's shoulder at her notes.

"Just seemed too easy to use right away," explained George as they began tossing a paper ball between each other.

"And what exactly do the two of you want?" asked Hermione as she finished her Charms annotations for the week, but she was smiling.

"Well, Hermione Granger, we were wondering if the two of you might be interested in a certain back-to-school party being hosted by yours truly this weekend."

"In the Tower?" asked the bookworm as she began putting her books away.

Fred leaned further towards her, lowering his voice conspiratorially. "Nope. Have you heard of the Room of Requirement?"

Her eyebrows knit together. "It's not in _Hogwarts: A History."_

"Not everything is," argued George, "There are some secrets of this castle you only find by exploring."

"All Houses welcome," they said in unison, looking at Hyacinth with mirrored smiles.

She pursed her lips. "I'll go if Hermione's going."

Hermione sighed dramatically. " _Maybe._ If you're lucky."

The twins laughed and high-fived each other before bouncing off, Madam Pince glaring after them.

"Of course I'm going," muttered Hermione as Hyacinth walked her back to Gryffindor Tower.

"I know. The way you toy with them is very admirably Slytherin, though," Hyacinth replied.

"Hush, you."

"Maybe it's all the time you've spent with Tracey and I."

" _Please._ When it comes to being coy, Tracey's the last one to take pointers from. That girl is pure sunshine."

"You've a point there. It's not a bad thing, though. A little sunshine is good for the dungeons."

. . .

"Do you want to come to this back-to-school party this weekend?"

It was another sunrise that Drisana had pulled Hyacinth out of bed for.

Drisana looked at her. "Thrown by whom, exactly?"

"It's an inter-House thing."

Drisana groaned. "You mean it's hosted by the _blood traitors."_

"I don't know who you're referring to."

"The twin terrors," snarked the blonde.

"Oh, _those_ blood traitors. You know, technically _I'm_ considered a blood traitor too."

"Shut up. It's not the same, you're not -" Drisana stopped, looking suddenly toward the skyline and as far from Hyacinth as her eyes could get.

"I'm not what?" Hyacinth asked, her voice toneless with danger.

"Nothing, Hya, I -"

"Not _pureblood?_ Yes, Hyacinth Potter's a blood traitor, but it's not the _same_ because she's not a pureblood, and her mother was a Muggleborn, and how much can you _expect_ from those _half-bloods_ anyway, right?"

"Hya, no, I didn't -"

"It's Hyacinth." She stood, suddenly. "I know that's what Pansy says. You think I haven't heard her? I love her but she's still a petty little girl. I ignore it because it doesn't mean anything from her, she has something bad to say about everyone, even all of us. And I expected something at least a _little_ bit better from you." She shook her head, repulsed by someone she adored, and stalked off in the pale morning light.

. . .

"Merlin, Malfoy, what the bloody hell did you _say_ to her?" Blaise asked after Hyacinth left dinner early, accompanied by the mudblood. She'd barely spoken the whole time, but rather than sorrowful, she looked angry, her lips pressed into a line the whole time.

Drisana pushed her food around her plate. "Nothing, Zabini."

"Okay, now I _know_ that's not true," countered Athena with a raised eyebrow, "And personally, I prefer my Potter with a swing in her step, not a snarl."

"Oh, _your_ Potter?" snickered Pansy as Daphne ran fingers through her hair, "I think we all know whose Potter she is."

"She'll be _no one's_ Potter if Drisana doesn't apologize," Tracey put in with a meaningful look at Drisana.

"No one's but the bloody mudblood," muttered Blaise. He loved Drisana, had known her since early childhood, but her mouth had been known to run faster than her mind, and it wouldn't be the first time she'd landed herself in a sticky situation with it. And all things considered, he agreed with Athena. Hyacinth was a lot of fun when she was normal, and absolutely _none_ when she was upset.

"You know," said Athena, looking at Drisana with intent, "We stood up to a basilisk and a shred of the Dark Lord's soul to get her back to normal last year, and you're not so frightening compared to that."

"Whatever, Rosier. Don't worry so much, she'll get over it."

Athena pursed her lips but sat back, dropping it for the time being.

 **A/N 2: Thank you for reading. If you have anything to say about the chapter (assuming it's kind, or polite even if it's not kind) don't hesitate to leave a review.**


	10. Of the Neverending Balancing Act

**A/N: It's my last day of summer vacation, so I thought I'd take a break from finishing my summer assignments to update this. Two short things: First, I know there a few errors here and there, but this is a chapter that I don't have the time to edit right now, and second, just be aware moving forward that I don't necessarily agree with all the things any of the characters do, even Hyacinth.**

"She's just -I just -"

"Expected the blood purist not to be a blood purist towards _you?"_ Hermione's eyebrows were raised.

Hyacinth looked down, ashamed to be complaining about Drisana's prejudice when Hermione had always gotten the very worst of it.

The Gryffindor softened. "Hey, Hya, it's alright, you've always defended me, it's alright for you to be upset. To be fair, she hasn't called me a you-know-what since the start of last year anyway. At least, not to my face. Maybe she's getting better."

"Well if _you'd_ like to be friends with her, then by all means, take my place."

"You don't mean that. You wouldn't be so mad if you didn't love her. It's the same reason you didn't leave the infirmary when I was petrified, and the same reason you don't care when Parkinson says the same thing. You love her, but you don't _love_ her, not like you love me, and not like you love Malfoy."

"That doesn't make it okay," persisted Hyacinth.

"No, but it was never okay. You're just not used to her directing it at you."

They sat in silence, finishing their Transfiguration notes, as Hyacinth sorted her thoughts and her feelings.

"And," added Hermione when they had almost finished, "I won't say I'm above feeling smug at the way she looked when you walked away with me, but still. This isn't too far from her boggart, you know."

"I know. I've been thinking about that."

"Listen. I don't care what she says about me anymore, but it's different when you're friends. It's alright for you to be mad for a while, but just . . . don't shut her out for too long. She needs you in more ways than one."

"When did you become so wise, 'Mione?"

Her lips twitched. "Many moons ago, flower."

. . .

The party actually went pretty well. Tracey and Blaise came, as well as Ginny and a few of the older-year Slytherins, and there were plenty of Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs in addition to the torrent of Gryffindors. Somebody had brought a stereo and everyone from third year and up was dancing and singing and complaining about the start of term and _Merlin_ did you hear about the semester project Sprout's assigning isn't she supposed to be the _bloody nice one._

" _She's very nice,"_ retorted a sixth-year Hufflepuff, " _Doesn't mean you don't have to earn your grades."_

There was the vague sound of " _Bloody Hufflepuff."_

. . .

"Granger's right," agreed Theo a few days later. They were taking advantage of one of the few warm days left, the two of them sitting by the edge of the Great Lake before they would have to back into the castle for advanced potions. "It does feel a bit hypocritical of you. I realize you've never supported Drisana's views, but you've also never given her a shoulder quite this cold over it before."

Hyacinth bit her lip, frustrated with herself.

"You know she's right, and so am I," continued the blue-eyed boy after a moment. "You care more because it's never been aimed at you before."

"Yes it has," she protested, "Don't tell me you haven't heard those little backhanded jabs Pansy gives Tracey and I."

"Well, yes. But first of all, Pansy has something cruel to say about almost everyone, even those she loves, and in her own petty way she does love both of you; secondly, she doesn't resent either of you for being half-bloods, Tracey's a bleeding heart and -in her eyes- you both _are_ blood traitors, not to mention you're famous for something you can't even remember. Thirdly, you've never had it aimed at you by _Drisana_ before, and that's the difference."

He had her there.

"So, what? I'm supposed to just gloss over it and pretend like it's all okay?"

Theo shrugged. "Do whatever you'd like, Hya. If your feelings are hurt then that's between you and her. Actually, it's all between you and her, but you seem to be flailing."

"I'm just -how can she -we've been friends for _years_ , Theo, and I thought -I just thought -"

"You thought muggleborns were one thing but at least maybe she'd gotten over the blood traitor thing? Or the half-blood thing? We both know those prejudices have always been there. If you want the truth, those prejudices are also harbored by Lucius and Narcissa, although they are far better at hiding them in front of the darling Girl Who Lived, Slytherin's shining star of an example that we're not _evil._ "

She couldn't help it now; hot tears were starting to slip out from behind her eyelids.

"Hyacinth," Theo said gently, pulling her in, to lean on him. Luckily, there weren't many people that had a free period this hour, so no one caught her crying indecently like this.

After a long moment, she pulled away. Her tears had soaked into Theo's white button-down, but he simply cleared them with a drying spell with barely a flick of his wand.

"I know all of those things," she said in a voice that sounded nearly numb, "I just." She took a deep breath, then let it out. "Can I tell you a secret? Very few people know this."

"Always," affirmed Theo.

"The Hat offered me Hufflepuff. Told me I had a dichotomy." She laughed dryly, her voice hoarse. "Here's a riddle: if someone is an even fusion between ambition and justice, do you put them in the House of the ambitious or the House of the just?"

"I'm not exactly in the House of the wise or anything, but I'd say it's up to them. We choose our own paths more often than we think."

She nodded, slowly. "Well done. I think the raggedy old thing was leaning towards Hufflepuff, truth be told. Until I had a thought. The thought was that if I were aware of a prejudice, I ought to fight it. And the best way to fight a preexisting structure like prejudice is from the inside out. At least, I thought so at the time. It remains to be seen if that's actually true or if I've just entrenched myself in something far bigger than myself. Anyway, the Hat basically said 'Unlikely, but do what you want to do,' and sent me on my merry way. Even now, I still wonder if that was the right choice. Or if I'd ultimately be better off down by the kitchens. You know they get sunlight down there? It seems like a better condition under which to bloom."

They sat in silence for a minute or two.

"I think," responded Theo slowly, "That the fact that you even conceived the notion to take down an existing power structure from the inside out is so incredibly Slytherin that your Sorting was sealed the moment you thought about it. You could have chosen Hufflepuff, but you chose Slytherin just for the _opportunity_ to try and achieve your goal. Your goal is very noble, of course, but that doesn't change the method you chose to achieve it. I think you have had an impact on Slytherin, moreso than you think. Do you think Tracey would've ever had the spine to go and befriend Granger, if not for you by her side? Tracey's lovely, and a good person, but she too is made of the self-preservation present in almost all Slytherins. She wouldn't have taken the risk if you weren't there to encourage her. And as hopeless as you might be thinking Drisana is, she's different. And you're responsible for that as well."

"And anyway," he added, as an afterthought, "We get the Great Lake, and there are flowers that bloom underwater."

She smiled then, something small but genuine. "Yeah. Who could stand all that yellow, anyway?"

. . .

Hyacinth deliberated for a week more. Hermione and Theo had the kindness, or maybe just the patience, to say nothing further of it, although Blaise did ask her what Drisana did wrong.

"It doesn't matter," she answered, shrugging. Blaise looked at her doubtfully, but dropped it.

Finally, she set a spell to wake her up before Drisana did (usually an impossible feat) and waited with her bed curtains open.

When Drisana rose, she went straight for the bathroom, not realizing in her grogginess that Hyacinth was up already. When she came out, she was running a comb through wet hair and she was fully dressed.

She saw Hyacinth and stopped in her tracks.

"Good morning."

Drisana returned the greeting, gray eyes clouded with uncertainty.

Hyacinth stood, revealing that she too was already dressed. "How about a sunrise?"

They walked in silence, Hyacinth waiting to speak perhaps for the dramatic effect, and Drisana too afraid and unsure.

They got to the top of the Astronomy Tower just in time, the faint hints of orange were just starting to slip into the sky.

Hyacinth took a deep breath in and released. "I'm not mad anymore."

"Finally," said Drisana, gaining back some of her arrogance.

"That is not to say that I am apologizing."

Drisana looked at the floor. "I know, but neither am I. You know I didn't mean it that way, you know I don't think about you like that, no matter what your blood status is."

Did she? No. Theo had been right -it was more likely than not that Narcissa and Lucius considered her nothing more than a pawn -a pretty little Slytherin showpony they could trot out to prove to the magical world that they weren't blood purists, or at least weren't adherents to Voldemort's ravings anymore.

But smart Slytherins knew when to stop pushing. "Sure. Anyways, I'm not mad about it anymore, but don't ever say something like that to me again."

Drisana just nodded, and took her hand.

. . .

"Thank _Merlin_ ," breathed Blaise when the two of them walked into breakfast, arm in arm.

. . .

"Wonderful news, Narcissa dear," declared Lucius Malfoy. His wife was at the window of the study, staring out into the garden. "Hyacinth has reclaimed Drisana."

Narcissa pursed her cherry lips, eyes unwavering. "Yes. See to it that such a rift does not open again. The last thing our daughter needs is to give the world any more of a reason to despise her than our legacy already has." The words were spoken bitterly.

"Cissa, you know if I could change the past -"

"You cannot. And now she must live with the consequences."

There was a moment of cold silence. "And if he should return?"

She spun, sharply, her silken hair whirling behind her. "There is nothing I would not do for my daughter, Lucius."

"Nor I, but we must prepare for the circumstance -"

"We already have."

"What, teaching the children Dark magic? A few malicious spells and potions? You imagine these will hold against him? Or do you expect them to join his ranks?"

"Do not mistake me, Lucius."

. . .

So, autumn gave way to winter with the subtlety of nature, until one day the snow was coming down and they were making preparations for Christmas.

"What are _you_ getting everyone, Hyacinth?" Theo asked one night in the common room.

"I'm not ruining the surprise," she denied him with a smirk.

"I hope it's a puppy."

"And where would you keep this puppy?"

"In _your_ dorms."

Pansy wrinkled her nose at this. " _Absolutely not._ Filthy animals, slobbering everywhere."

"Yes," countered Theo, "but loyal."

"What are we, Hufflepuffs?"

. . .

Christmas passed with the typical gift exchange. No one worth mentioning received any puppies, and the eve of the new year found the usual crew at Malfoy Manor.

The ball was held again, and Hyacinth found herself being pulled into the library by Drisana, who slammed the door behind them.

"What's wrong?" questioned Hyacinth. This behavior was abnormal.

"I don't know. The air started feeling really tight, and I just couldn't stand to be surrounded by so many people anymore."

"Okay. Just breathe."

Drisana nodded. She was leaning against one of the antique desks, and her knuckles were turning white, starkly contrasting with her emerald green acrylic nails, courtesy of a girls' trips Narcissa had taken all the girls on several hours prior.

The only sound was the deep, slow breathing of the blonde girl. Finally she turned around. Hyacinth wasn't sure how many minutes had passed by then.

"I feel better now."

"Do you want to go back out?"

Drisana twisted the silver skirt of her dress. "Not really."

"How long do you think we can stay here before they notice we're gone?"

"Maybe five more minutes."

"Five more minutes, then."

Drisana nodded, looking down at the wood floor.

After many more deep breaths, Hyacinth took her by the hand and led her back to the party, keeping to the outskirts, giggling together at the way Pansy was vying for Blaise's attention.

. . .

When Sirius Black broke into the castle, Hyacinth ended up in a sleeping bag in the Great Hall, fitted between Drisana and Tracey.

"I don't think he came to kill you, Hya," confessed Drisana in a hushed voice. "Mother is his cousin, and she said with the way he was attached to your father's hip in school, she can't believe he'd ever do what they say he did. She says she never even heard anything about him coming to their side."

"But then what is he doing here?" Hyacinth hissed.

Tracey's dark blue eyes looked concerned. "Well, it's obvious he's after you, one way or the other. Plus, how could the Ministry send an innocent man to Azkaban for twelve years?"

"The Ministry was scared and wanted more people to lock up to make the public feel safer," bit Drisana, "In those days, they probably would've locked up Merlin himself and thrown away the key if he so much as sneezed in the wrong direction."

. . .

Unfortunately, the students were forbidden from Hogsmeade after that, and Hyacinth hadn't made it to the first two trips, being tied up with Potions.

The bright side to that was that she was the best Potions student in her year, managing to best even Hermione. The Gryffindor girl simply pursed her lips at that and side-eyed her good-naturedly. She was, after all, still the best in every other class. She would concede just this once.

"Only for you, the best of friends," she said with a soft smile.

Incidentally, it was around this time that a certain Weasley twin began to make his affections known for the bookworm.

"Come on, Hermione, won't you go out with me?"

"First of all, even if I _did_ say yes, where would we even go? Hogsmeade is forbidden until Sirius Black is caught."

The redhead grinned. "I have my ways."

"If you think I'm going to take part in your _complete_ disregard for the rules which are only in place for _our safety,_ you have got another thing coming Fred Weasley!"

Fred shot a mischievous wink towards Hyacinth, who was watching the scene unfold with mirth. "So,once Black is caught, then?"

Hermione glared at him.

. . .

"So, would you, then? If we _could_ go to Hogsmeade?"

Hermione cut a glance at her. The boy had scampered off, no doubt to torment a clueless first year, and it was just the two of them in the library.

"Would _you?"_

Hyacinth wrinkled her nose. "He's a good friend, but I don't think I could get past the red hair."

Hermione laughed. "Didn't your mother have red hair? And so does Ginny."

"Yes, but my mother's was more of a dark red, and Ginny's is deeper as well. The twins are _orange._ Think of the children."

"I'll not be thinking of any children any time soon, thank you very much, and in case you haven't noticed, my children will more than likely be brunette." She pointed to her dark curls.

"Maybe, but considering the fact that they popped out seven children, and _all of them_ are gingers, I wouldn't risk it. And you didn't answer the question."

She shrugged. "Maybe next year. There's time."

"Personally," said Tracey, who had approached unnoticed and now threw her bag on the desk with a flourish, "I think that as far as Gryffindors go, he's not so bad, but why stick with Gryffindors?"

"Would _you_ date outside of Slytherin?" asked the Gryffindor.

"Please. I wouldn't be caught dead dating _within_ Slytherin."

"And you, Hya?"

She shrugged. "I mean, it's probably more interesting to get to know someone from a different House. I already know everyone in Slytherin."

"But is there anyone in Slytherin you _would_ date, if you had the chance?" asked the Gryffindor. Tracey looked at her with curiosity.

"Athena for sure," she answered immediately.

" _What?"_ Hermione was flabbergasted.

"No, no, I see it," agreed Tracey. "There's something about all the skill and raw energy."

"Exactly. It's not like I have a crush, but come on, 'Mione, anyone would date Athena Rosier if they had the chance."

"Eh. I mean, I kind of see that. Still, that's not who i was expecting."

"Who were you expecting?"

. . .

It was mid-May when Hyacinth woke to the feeling of Venus kneading on her chest.

"What in Merlin's name?"

The cat looked at her with glowing green eyes, kneaded on her once more for good measure, and then leapt to the door, watching her still.

Knowing how to take a hint from a magical cat, she slipped her shoes on and followed, pulling on her invisibility cloak as she went.

Venus led her through the halls until she caught sight of a rat, which she then began to tail at speed, forcing Hyacinth to run to keep up. They ended up all the way outside, heading towards the Whomping Willow.

"This cat will be the death of me," muttered Hyacinth, who was starting to contemplate the risks of following a magical cat in the middle of the night. The rat ran through a hole in the base of the tree, and Venus tapped a knot in the wood before following. At once, the branches halted their movement, and Hyacinth ran after them, squeezing through the hole as well.

She came down into a passageway, and Venus was running after the rat about twenty feet ahead of her.

They came out into a room, where, much to her surprise, Professor Lupin and a man who closely resembled the pictures of Sirius Black she had seen in the papers were already present.

They looked at her in surprise.

"Hyacinth, what are you doing here? You must get back to the castle at once," said Lupin.

"Uh, sure thing, but what exactly is going on here?"

Just then, the rat that Venus had trapped between her paws grew, and grew, and grew, until a grown man stood before them.

He was ugly.

" _Um."_ Hyacinth was quite interested in the explanation of this situation.

"She looks just like James," said Sirius Black quietly, and then shook his head, pulling out a wand and directing it at the rat-man.

"Peter! You traitor! How dare you show your face!"

"Sirius, you have to understand, there was no choice -"

"There is always a choice!" Black had a dangerous look in his eyes. "There is _always_ a choice and you made yours!"

"Please, it's what James would have done, or you, or you, Remus -"

"James would have _died_ rather than betray his friends, even you, you coward!" snarled Black. _

Hyacinth was debating on whether it would be worth risking the wrath of an escaped convict to figure out what any of this meant.

"Hyacinth, _please,_ " Lupin pleaded, "You must get back to the castle -"

" _I_ will take care of that."

Hyacinth wasn't sure if this situation was made more or less weird by Severus Snape showing up.

"Oh, you'll do no such thing, Snivellus, if you think I trust you to take care of my goddaughter you've got another thing coming -" ranted Black.

"I think you will find, Black, that I have managed to keep her alive for this long, no thanks to you."

" _Goddaughter?"_ Hyacinth had indeed been caught by surprise.

"There was nothing I could do from _Azkaban,_ but I'm out now, and she won't be needing some greasy Slytherin."

"Sirius," warned Remus.

" _Greasy Slytherin?"_ This night was a rollercoaster, and while everyone was talking about her, they also were ignoring her.

"Oh? And what House, pray tell, do you imagine your goddaughter was placed in?"

He scoffed. "Gryffindor, obviously."

"Wow, they really must not get a whole lot of news in wizard prison," she muttered to herself.

Snape smirked, triumphant. "You are incorrect. Hyacinth Potter is, as _you_ so eloquently put it, a 'greasy Slytherin.'"

Black was aghast. " _No!"_

"Sirius, it's true," murmured Remus.

Sirius Black finally looked at her, really looked at her. She was in her pajamas, a pair of gray sweatpants and a faded orange t-shirt. She could forgive him the assumption of her House status, considering she wasn't wearing anything affiliative, but really, what was so bad about Slytherin?

The rat-man named Peter took this opportunity to turn back into a rat and scurry away.

"You -but Lily and James -"

"Sirius. Children are not their parents. You of all people ought to know that."

"But they were so _good_."

"And Slytherin is evil?" snarked Snape.

"I mean," offered Hyacinth, "it never felt like it to me."

"No, of course not, you've never known anything else." He put his head in his hands. "Things would be different if it weren't for that godforsaken rat. I would've raised you, I _should_ have."

Hyacinth had quite enjoyed being raised by Aunt Petunia, but it might be rude to say so.

Just then, Lupin began to twitch.

"Hyacinth, we must get back to the school at once," said the Potions Master, gently pushing her by the shoulder towards the passageway.

Before long, Lupin's body was convulsing, and Snape was all but dragging her through the passage.

They ran back to the school with a speed she hadn't known the man possessed. They slowed down once they were safely inside.

"Professor Lupin is a werewolf," said the Head of Slytherin as he escorted her back to the dorms.

"Oh." She wasn't sure how to handle that. He was, after all, a very nice man, who had apparently been close to her parents.

"Sirius Black is your godfather. He was falsely accused of murder, betrayal of your parents, and crossing to the Dark side. I know he was falsely accused because he was so insufferably passionate about Dumbledore and the Light that these allegations are impossible."

"But you don't know for sure," she pressed.

He side-eyed her. "I can almost guarantee it. Realistically, it would make far more sense for Peter Pettigrew to have framed him, especially considering the fact that Peter Pettigrew is supposed to be dead. And if Sirius Black had come to the Dark side, I can assure you I would have known about it."

Finally, they reached the dorms. "The man is obnoxious at best, and pigheaded at worst, but if you are looking for the truth about Sirius Black, he is a man in which you would be safe to place your trust. He had an unfailing adoration for your father."

"What about the things he said about you?"

Snape's mouth twisted. "He and I have never been friends."

"You weren't friends with my father either, though."

"No. But that is hardly your fault."

She was struck by the kindness of the Potions Master, the ways in which he undermined all the accusations lain at his feet by those outside of Slytherin. She had often wondered what it might be like to be in the charge of Professor Sprout, the sweet Herbology Professor, and at times even McGonagall, the fiercely protective Head of Gryffindor, but she decided now she was luckier and better off under the watch of Professor Snape, who would go to any lengths to keep his students out of trouble and out of the public's baseless hatred, and cared not if the rest of the world despised him.

"Oh, and Miss Potter, the next time your cat decides to wake you in the dead of night, you had bloody well better go back to sleep."

"Of course, Professor."

. . .

"You have grown to care for the child."

"Albus."

There was a twinkle in the old man's eye, but it was sad. "Why?"

"Haven't you?" demanded the Slytherin man.

"I care for all my students, Severus, but when you have seen so many of them die, you will try to avoid having favorites. And Hyacinth Potter is your favorite."

"I am not a favoritist."

"Everyone is. We can't help it, we're only human. You favor her, over even your own goddaughter."

"Yes, well, _Hyacinth_ hasn't got two doting, filthy rich parents, and _her_ godfather spent the majority of her life so far in prison. Drisana will manage just fine."

"So, what then? Are you trying to make the girl in your image? Is that why the Potions?"

"No. She could do far better things with her life than be anything like me, and if I have anything to do with it, she will be. But potioneering is a necessary skill for success."

"You know, Remus taught her to cast a Patronus. She learned it in one day."

"One - _one day?_ "

Albus nodded. "I fear she is far more powerful than we may have thought, than even she knows. Lupin did not tell her this was a record speed, merely that the Patronus Charm was not something all witches and wizards can do."

"What is her Patronus?"

Dumbledore smiled here, and it was almost a grin. "A moose."

"A _moose?"_

"Yes. The animal of balance."

"Not so far from a stag."

"No. But you of all people must have noticed the contrast between Hyacinth and James."

It was true. She was very little like her father. She was more similar to Lily, but even that was not exact. She was more patient, and more subtle than either of her parents had been. Something distinctly Slytherin, distinctly Hyacinth Potter.

. . .

Sirius Black was not caught by the Ministry, and remained on the run. That did not stop him, of course, from writing to her about a week later.

 _Hyacinth,_

 _Forgive me for not writing sooner. It's been difficult. I want you to know that I don't really care what House you're in, you're my goddaughter and I will always be here for you. It's a tragic injustice of fate that I was absent from your life for so long._

 _I am sure you will have many questions. You may ask me anything you wish to know about your parents, or me. I'm working on getting back home, and when I do, you are invited to come stay any time you wish, for however long you wish. For now, rely on Remus for anything you might need. He is one of the few trustworthy individuals in this world._

 _-Padfoot_

She knew who it was from. Lupin had explained a few days earlier that he, Sirius, Peter, and her father had all been good friends at Hogwarts, and Sirius had been nicknamed Padfoot.

Truthfully, based on her first impression, she hadn't expected him to look past the Slytherin thing. Maybe he wasn't so bad after all.

Even Snape spoke positively about him.

. . .

"My cousin was always a rebellious boy," Narcissa confessed to her a few months later. It was about time for the annual summer gathering at Malfoy Manor, and this time they would finish off their stay with a trip to the Quidditch World Cup.

"Even before school, he was stubborn," she continued. It was just Narcissa and Hyacinth, they were in the library and Narcissa was telling her the story of Sirius Black as she plucked books from the shelves, adding each of them to one of four piles. "Aunt Walburga used to rage at him like a harpy, poor boy. He refused to be obedient. Quite like my sisters." Her voice went cold here. "Of course, Andy and Bella went in polar directions with their bullheadedness. Anyhow, Sirius was in the same year as me, and we were always close. When he was Sorted into Gryffindor, his mother was infuriated. Quickly, he became friends with a boy called James Potter. Two others, Remus Lupin and Peter Pettigrew, but Sirius and your father were thick as thieves from the day they met."

Hyacinth wanted to ask if Narcissa had known her father, or what she'd thought of him -what the deal was with Snape and her father, anyway, but thought it best not to break the steady, rhythmic flow of the woman's storytelling.

"It got worse from there, in Walburga's eyes. Of course, his little brother Regulus, was Sorted into Slytherin like the rest of us, further alienating Sirius as the black sheep of the Blacks."

Narcissa entered Hyacinth's field of vision, coming out from behind a bookshelf with an old leather tome in her slender hands. She made direct eye contact with Hyacinth.

"You are old enough now to be told certain realities. You will forgive me for the directness, but it is important that you are aware of the dangers that lie in this world. Hyacinth, the Dark Lord wanted you dead. To this day, I don't know why, but he was certain that you were not to live. Your parents took you and went into hiding. Hyacinth, do you know what a Fidelius charm is?"

"It keeps secrets, right?"

"Yes. Everyone believes Sirius was your parents' Secret-Keeper and he gave them away, but I don't believe it, and I doubt you do either after recent events involving a certain rat."

"Well, if Sirius Black murdered Peter Pettigrew, then why is Peter Pettigrew still alive? And if that's false, it would make sense that Sirius being a Death Eater is false too. Sirius doesn't seem like the type."

Narcissa spun sharply, her heels clacking on the wood as she stepped forward, until she was but a foot away from Hyacinth.

"Your conclusions about Sirius are correct, but do not assume that anyone is or isn't innocent based on what they seem like, do you understand? It would shock you, some of the people who willingly came to the Dark Lord, and the people who ended up fighting against him."

"I understand." This conversation was getting heavy.

Narcissa backed up, and let out a deep sigh. "It's complicated, dear. What people do in a war . . . they often act out of character. But Sirius didn't, Pettigrew did."

"Did you act out of character?"

She hadn't meant to ask. She gasped softly at herself even as the words slipped out of her mouth.

Ice blue met emerald green. Narcissa Malfoy had been grooming her as a Malfoy ally since she was eleven, and everyone knew it, but it didn't change the strange affection she held for the woman who had so integral into exposing her to wizard culture and tradition, into knowledge she could never access at Hogwarts, and even, at times, into fashion. She was a high society socialite, but she had also once been the wife of a Death Eater in a country at war with itself. She had also once lived under the ever-present eye of Voldemort.

And she had survived. That was far more interesting to Hyacinth than any ballgown Narcissa might find.

Hyacinth was expecting a hostile, cold, or short answer.

"That's hard to say. I have always been interested in Dark magic, most of the Blacks were, but . . . the horrors he inflicted were not to my taste. I did what was necessary to keep Lucius, and later Drisana, alive."

"He's not gone, is he? Not forever." It was a sneaking suspicion she'd had for a while, and this summer she'd been having the worst nightmares. She now understood why Daphne was unable to sleep in a room alone. Hyacinth herself had taken to knocking on Drisana's door without bothering to even try to sleep alone. Before that, she'd spent a few weeks with Hermione. The nightmares featured green light, Pettigrew, and a cold, high voice.

"Do not say such things to anyone else, especially Drisana." Her voice was now sharp.

"But it's true?"

"I don't know. But Hyacinth, if it comes down to it, you will not be given to the dogs. Now, this stack is for you, I want you to read them as soon as possible." With a shifted demeanor, the woman handed her a pile of five books. Three were about curses and hexes, another transfiguration, and another potions (like she _needed_ to read anything else about potions).

. . .

Incidentally, Tracey, Athena, and Theo also received reading assignments.

"She's got me studying Herbology, primarily," Tracey murmured, fingers flipping through pages a few days later as they gathered in Hyacinth's room. "A bit of ancient runes, a bit of curses, but mostly plants."

"Potions," Athena said. Theo and Hyacinth snorted.

"Curses and hexes," Hyacinth offered.

"Mine's a split between Charms and Magical Creatures."

"You know what she's doing, right?" checked Athena.

"If you're referring to her training the four of us in different magical fields to create a well-rounded team of young, elite sorcerers in the event of another war, then yes," answered Theo.

"Another war?" asked Tracey, deep blue eyes flickering.

"One way or another, it's coming," confirmed Athena. "For one thing, most of the humanoid and/or sentient magical creatures in this country are miserable, because we treat them like second-class citizens. For another, there's plenty of Dark witches and wizards left over from the last war itching to take their revenge on the Ministry and even Dumbledore himself. There's also the Muggleborn riots."

"There have been Muggleborn riots?" Hyacinth asked in confusion and slight fear. Riots meant aurors cracking down on the rioters, and Hermione was a Muggleborn inclined towards social change.

Theo waved a hand. "Just a few, not particularly organized as a movement yet, but the push is against the aforementioned leftover blood-purist Dark witches and wizards who are gaining more and more leverage in the Ministry, which has to do with the fact that most of them are from wealthy and well-known pureblood families."

"So it's a seesaw, then," concluded Tracey. Theo and Athena nodded.

"Well, one way or another, it's obvious Narcissa wants us to be ready for anything," Hyacinth murmured as she looked through the book of curses. "Athena, don't suppose you'd help me practice these?"

The Rosier girl nodded. "As long as you help me with Potions."

"Why isn't Drisana getting any of these assignments?" asked Tracey.

"She probably already knows most of this. There's a whole month or so every summer before we get here, and usually another after we leave. She's had lots of time to learn."

That sounded true enough, but you'd think learning so much magic, much of which crossed into the Dark Arts, would have a more visible effect on someone. But Drisana acted like she always did.

 **A/N: The dynamic between Hyacinth and Drisana is complicated, and it's something I wouldn't mind addressing in a longer author's note some day down the line, if anybody cares to hear my personal thoughts on it. Anyways, thanks for reading, and please leave a review. It really keeps me going.**


	11. Of Bludgers and Bulgarians

**A/N: Because a guest reviewer left a comment about this, I'd just like to let anybody who may think otherwise know that the reason Aunt Petunia is loving towards Hyacinth is not because she's a girl. If you recall, Hyacinth asks her in her first year about Snape, and Petunia tells her that they both disliked James, but _she got over it._ That means of course that her relationship with her sister (and honestly, her own self-esteem and confidence) is a lot better in this AU, which is the main reason why she was willing to divorce Vernon and why she isn't cruel towards Hyacinth. She eventually, in this story, grew up and got over her jealousy, before Lily and James died. It is in no way connected to Hyacinth being a girl. And her keeping the magical world from Hyacinth is not, obviously, because she hates or fears it (or wishes she was part of it so much that she hates it). You can interpret that however you want to, really, and I'm sure most of you already did by this point. **

The Quidditch world cup was a busy bustle of people the likes of which Hyacinth had never seen.

Incidentally, Ginny and the twins were there with their father. Lucius looked down his nose at Arthur Weasley, but greeted Ginny with a warm hello.

The redhead returned it, flashing Hyacinth a smile as they passed.

They found themselves in some box that Hyacinth was told contained the best seats in the stadium. Drisana liked Quidditch, and confessed that she was thinking of trying out for the team this year.

"There's an open Seeker position," she said as her eyes followed the Bulgarian team.

"You'd make a good Seeker," Blaise remarked. "Skinny enough for it."

"I don't know if that's a compliment or not," the blonde admitted, her eyes still focused on the players, "but right now I can't bring myself to care."

The Italian boy's eyes flashed to Viktor Krum, allegedly the best Seeker in the world. "Got a crush?"

She snorted. "No."

"No, we all know who Drisana's been crushing on," muttered Daphne.

Hyacinth furrowed her brows. "Who?" She nudged Drisana. "Who've you been crushing on?"

The glare the girl shot to Daphne was hotter than fiendfyre. "Absolutely no one. Daphne's got an active imagination."

Pursing her lips, rolling her eyes, Daphne let it drop, and there was silence.

"Well. Anyone else heard about this Mad-Eye Moody business?" Blaise broke the tension, and at once all the Slytherins began complaining about Lupin's replacement.

Athena was silent, lips pressed into a tight line.

. . .

That night brought dark tidings. The group of teenagers were portkeyed home with Narcissa immediately after the match, when a suspicious amount of ruckus had begun.

"What do you think is going on?" asked Tracey, chewing her lower lip.

"Could be celebrating. At Muggle sporting events, people always get drunk and act unruly afterwards. Sometimes they fight," offered Hyacinth, but the doubt was evident in her voice.

Drisana shook her head.

"It's not," said Athena.

"Then what is it?" demanded Pansy.

"Death Eaters," said Theo, voice barely above a whisper. "They've been planning this for months."

"Planning what? What are they doing?" Hyacinth had reached an unusual pitch and the panic was near.

"Nothing serious, hexing some Muggleborns, throwing up the Dark Mark in the sky, you know the usual," bit out Athena, every syllable dripping with sarcasm. Daphne moved behind her and began to rub circles into her shoulders.

"The _sky?"_

"There's a spell that puts the Mark in the sky, like some kind of Dark Aurora Borealis," explained Theo quietly.

"So? What now?" asked Pansy, and even her voice was level.

Blaise shrugged. "What choice is there? It's more than likely just the old fanatics, but either way we can see where this country is headed."

Drisana bristled. "They're not _fanatics_ , they're just idealists."

"With what ideals?" snapped Hyacinth. "The ideal that the Muggleborns shouldn't be here, the _half-bloods_ aren't much better, and the blood traitors are even worse. The ideal that they're better than everyone else just because of who their parents were, or how much money they've got?"

"First of all, the Muggleborns _shouldn't._ They're a danger to wizarding society and everyone knows it. Second, there's nothing wrong with being proud of your heritage or your accomplishments," Drisana was quick to fire back, her cheeks turning pink.

"Yeah, well, your heritage is hateful, so you can be proud of that if you want to, but it makes you a demon."

"Oh, please, demons are for Muggles with their notions of heaven and hell."

"Of course, stupid Muggles, right, how dare anyone believe there's a cosmic _balance_ to this cold world that is only made colder by the likes of _you!"_

They were inches apart, Hyacinth's lips were pulled back in disgusted fury. She had never felt such anger, not even when Drisana dismissed her as a half-blood.

She felt hands on her shoulders. It was Theo, she knew without looking. Out of all the people in the room who would dare to touch her in this state, he had the largest hands.

"Let's take a walk, Hya."

She backed away slowly, eyes never leaving the other girl, until Theo was pulling the door of the library closed behind them.

"Anything you need to say?" he asked as they approached the gardens, running a hand through dark hair.

"I hate her sometimes," she muttered.

"What makes her worse than any of the other bigots? Worse than Lucius, who I can assure you has done far worse than parrot some ignorant rhetoric? Or Narcissa, who shares the exact same beliefs? Worse than any of the Death Eaters, even?"

"For the record, I hate them too."

"But you don't shout at them."

"I would if I thought it would help."

"It won't help with her either, Hya."

She released a slow breath. "I know that."

"I know you do. Now that that's out of the way, let's look at what we _can_ do. Dark things are in motion. We can't stop them, but-"

"What things? Theo, what exactly do you know?"

His eyes were bluer than the sky, and they looked at her with sadness and fear. "There's a plan to -to revive him. I don't know if it will work, it's sketchy, old magic that isn't performed often. I don't know anything else about it, but we've got some time. I don't know how much, but time enough for Slytherins to make plans."

Hyacinth felt like the wind had been knocked out of her. She clutched onto Theo's arm. "Revive? Why, why would they _ever_ -"

"You'll drive yourself mad trying to understand them. I've been doing it my whole life. It doesn't matter why, anyways. What matters is what we do about it."

"So what do you want to do?"

Theo was and had always been a troubled boy. Current circumstances didn't help.

"I don't know. Narcissa is obviously arming us for a reason, but whether that reason is to resist or to serve is anyone's guess. Living under the Dark Lord wasn't exactly paradise for most of them, and I can't imagine she's keen to go through it again."

"But Lucius is at the Death Eater riot right now."

"It's complicated. If one of them flakes, and the Dark Lord _does_ return, the ones who didn't will rat out the traitor."

"And then -"

"And then the ones that didn't stay 'loyal' die, most likely. Even if he _didn't_ want to go -and whatever Narcissa's intentions may be, the probability is that he was just as glad to partake in the old festivities as the rest of them -he doesn't have much of a choice."

"So then, what? Do we resist? You and I know this isn't right, even if the others don't. Could you even resist, with your father?"

He paused. "It would be difficult. I would have to run away, most likely, or else suffer the wrath of my father and the Dark Lord."

The image of Theo at the mercy of some faceless horror who tortured and murdered people for kicks made something in her angry and afraid, and she wanted to take all of her friends and hide them somewhere safe and quiet until the brewing storm had run its course and passed.

But where could any of them run to?

The dilemma hung in front of them, and eventually they leaned against one another, tired, overwhelmed, and staring at the stars.

. . .

The next time Hyacinth saw Hermione Granger, it was on the train to Hogwarts. Her hair had the same happy bounce to it as always, her eyes the same curious sparkle. She had yet to change into her uniform, and was dressed in loose denim jeans and an oversized, faded red jumper that read "Gryffindor Quidditch" on the front and "Weasley" on the back in golden letters.

There was something innocent about Hermione, despite everything she'd faced. Something that had yet to meet the worst of the world.

And because Hyacinth wanted to keep it that way, she didn't tell her what was coming. Not yet.

"How was the World Cup?" she asked absently, flipping through one of their new textbooks.

"Eh. You know I don't really care for the game."

Hermione's lips twitched. "Still, I'm sure you had fun."

"Actually, Drisana and I had an argument."

"What about?"

"Nothing new," Hyacinth lied, "Just some tension about the blood purity thing again."

"Hyacinth. There's something that's been on my mind about you and Drisana." Hermione looked straight at her now.

"What is it?"

"You can't be friends with someone's potential."

"What?"

Tracey remained quiet for this interaction, eyes shifting with interest between Hermione and Hyacinth.

"You can't stay friends with Drisana just because of who she might become some day. You can't overlook her beliefs because you hope you can change them. You have to either accept her as she is or walk away."

Three out of three people in that train compartment knew that was true. Two out of three people in that train compartment knew it was a little bit more complicated than that.

Still, something would have to give with the Drisana situation.

"Anyways, Hermione," said Tracey suddenly, "D'you suppose you'll go out with Fred Weasley this year?"

Giggling, Hermione threw a jelly bean at her. "We'll see."

Coincidentally, the terrible two decided to make an appearance at that moment. They had hit an obvious growth spurt during the summer and had risen at least three inches in height (as if they weren't tall enough already) and they'd been growing out their hair (still that awful shade of orange).

They stuck their heads in the compartment door.

"Hello ladies," said George.

"Ready for another fun year at everybody's favorite institute of learning?"

Fred situated himself immediately between Hermione and Hyacinth, plucking the textbook out of her hands. "Transfiguration? Doesn't McGonagall adore you enough already, Granger?"

"She does no such thing!"

"She does," countered Tracey with a grin, "Almost as much as Snape favors Hyacinth."

"He does _not!"_

"Oh yes he does!" The other Slytherin stopped her with a raised index finger. "Everyone has their favorites, including McGonagall and Snape. They just so happen to be the two of you."

"That's hardly _our_ fault," Hermione huffed.

"Well, maybe if you didn't glue the Transfiguration textbooks to your face every year -" teased Fred, and Hermione was swatting him on the arm before he knew it, yanking her book back.

"What do you want anyway, Weasley?"

"What? You wound me, Hermione, can't a bloke miss his favorite know-it-all -"

"A bloke can _get out_ if he doesn't quit with the trash talking," snarked the bookworm.

Fred raised his hands in surrender. "Alright, alright, just wanted to _inform_ you girls that we'll be having some guests at the castle this year."

"Guests?" asked Hyacinth with suspicion.

"Students from Durmstrang and Beauxbatons," explained George.

"Why?" Tracey inquired.

"Must be the Triwizard Tournament," muttered Hermione immediately, brows knit, "but that hasn't been done in decades, It's _dangerous_ , people _die."_

"People _also_ win honor,"

"Glory,"

"And Galleons," added the twins.

Hermione's mouth dropped open for a moment, before she was on them. "Oh no no, if you think you're stepping _foot_ near that tournament, if you so much as _think_ about entering, so help me God I will string the both of you up by your toes in the Great Hall, and then we'll see about your _honor and glory!"_

"Sounds like you're rather interested in our well-being," quipped George, nudging Tracey with an elbow and a grin.

"Somebody ought to be, because if you enter the tournament you obviously aren't!"

That was when Fred's eyes dipped down. "Nice jumper, Granger."

She might have been blushing, but her skin was too dark to give her away, and her lips were pursed in annoyance. "You can take it back if you want to get smug."

"Oh no, you keep it love, you know you can have anything you want of mine."

She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. Hyacinth was expecting her to swat him again.

. . .

At the welcoming feast, Dumbledore did, indeed, announce that they would be hosting the Triwizard Tournament that year "to foster international relations and friendships."

"But, I must tell you now that due to safety concerns, no student under the age of seventeen shall be allowed to enter. This is a serious event, and if your name is chosen by the Goblet of Fire, you are magically bound to compete."

There was, at once, loud protests from all tables except for Slytherin, who would gladly turn away an opportunity to risk their necks. Gryffindor was the loudest.

Well, at least Hermione would be happy. The twins were sixteen, which meant they couldn't enter.

Hyacinth was relieved too. She knew exactly one person that was itching to prove herself, and she would sleep better knowing Drisana was not facing the imminent risk of death so soon.

Even if they had barely spoken since that fight on the night of the World Cup, Drisana still sat next to her at dinner, they still shared glances that spoke almost as well as words.

She hated her sometimes, but it was never more than she loved her.

. . .

That night was a very late night for the fourth-year Slytherin girls, who stayed up for hours theorizing about what kind of challenges the Tournament might hold, and what the students from Durmstrang and Beauxbatons would be like.

"The Durmstrang students will be interesting," said Drisana, "They teach the Dark Arts openly there."

"Yeah, but French people are beautiful," murmured Daphne as she flicked through a copy of the French edition of Witch Weekly, to which she was met with a sharp glare from Athena.

"Not the most beautiful, of course," she added hastily, smiling at the other girl.

It had been evident for several months now what was going on between the two, and later, once everyone else had fallen asleep, Hyacinth would ask her about it.

"How long has that been going on?"

Daphne blushed, giggling quietly. They were sitting on the floor between their beds, hair tucked out of their faces in plaits, pajamas on.

"A while now. I mean, we've always been close, you know? But not like me and Pansy close. Just different. Like how you and Theo are close but you and Drisana are too, and it's different."

Hyacinth wasn't sure what she was implying, but she was more interested in Daphne's situation. Curiosity was getting the best of her.

"Is there anything official yet?"

Daphne shrugged. "Kind of? It's not like we claim each other yet, but there have been discussions between her mom and my parents about arrangements. It's just hard with these things nowadays, because kids can be fickle, you know?"

"These things?" Hyacinth knew this was a time where her lack of precise knowledge about pureblood customs was showing.

"Well, marriage. I know it sounds pretty early to be talking about that -muggles get married pretty late, don't they? -but that's the way we do it. You have to find somebody quickly, or else all the decent people will be spoken for. It just works out that Athena and I are suited for one another anyway."

Hyacinth mulled that over. The practice of arranged marriage still existed in the muggle world, but it was unusual in Britain, and she suspected that if she asked Aunt Petunia to set up a marriage for her anytime soon, the woman would have a heart attack from the shock. It was a funny image.

Still, in a lot of ways it made sense. It seemed like the magical world had a much lower rate of divorce than muggles, at least in Britain, and it was straightforward. She still didn't like the idea of not getting to _choose_ who you married (she recalled a conversation of similar subject with Drisana) but it was probably just a cultural thing.

"So do you think you'll marry her?"

Daphne smiled, eyes drifting. "I wouldn't mind it."

Hyacinth nodded. "I mean, there's a lot worse than someone like Athena Rosier out there, so I get it."

"No," the blonde protested, "there's nobody 'like' her. Not really."

Hyacinth had to agree. Her friends were each one of a kind.

. . .

"I'm sorry for what I said about muggle religion," said Drisana softly the next morning, the orange glow of morning highlighting her skin as they sat atop the Astronomy Tower. "It didn't occur to me -and I guess it hasn't, all these years -that you might believe in it. Witches and wizards don't usually really _believe_ , even if we participate in traditions like Christmas and Easter."

"I forgive you," said Hyacinth, because when would she not? "For the record, I do believe that there's a just force in this world. I don't know precisely what it is, but I do believe it's out there. Maybe religion isn't for you, and that's okay, but you shouldn't write people off just because they believe in it. Everybody sees things differently."

Drisana nodded, eyes wandering over the grounds, and laced her fingers through Hyacinth's.

"And anyways, not all muggle religions are the same. Some don't really talk much about heaven or hell. It's a complex subject."

"Maybe I should take Muggle Studies next year," said the blonde with a teasing smile.

"You'd probably benefit from it."

"Well, I'll have to find something to do with my time _this_ year, since we're not having Quidditch."

"I know, it broke your heart. You can always practice and make Seeker next year."

She snorted. "What, and miss all this Triwizard business? I think not."

"It does sound pretty interesting."

"I just wish I could compete."

"It's apparently pretty dangerous."

"Not if you're smart. How bad can it be, it's meant for students?"

"Some of those students have died."

" _Those_ students weren't raised by Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy and armed with a wealth of magical knowledge, now were they?"

Hyacinth smiled. "No, I suppose not."

. . .

Athena Rosier prepared herself, hushing the voice inside of her that repeated constantly: _A leg is no price for a life,_ and walked into her first Defense lesson of the year, Daphne holding her hand.

Daphne was the soft to Athena's steel. The blonde girl had warm blue eyes and everything about her was brighter, sweeter. She was the still lake when Athena was the tsunami. She was, perhaps, the only person that saw through Athena's best attempts to be above it all. Daphne always knew something was wrong even if Athena appeared calm.

She breathed out, looked into still lake eyes, and faced her father's murderer.

 _The death of notorious Death Eater Evan Rosier at the hand of heroic Auror Alastor Moody has been reported today, April 23rd, 1980._

Athena was born in May. She never even got to meet him, never got to know him, would forever live in his shadow, forever live in Mother's grief, because the man before her decided to deal that life to Athena Rosier, just on the verge of birth in April of 1980.

Athena knew her father was a Death Eater, and the things they'd done to people weren't right, but didn't he also have a wife who adored him? A child coming who needed him? A family to be with?

What did Alastor Moody have? No family to speak of, and these days not even an Auror badge, just paranoia and trashcans that he mistook for intruders in the night.

She looked at him and wished, violently, that he had died that night.

A robotic blue eye looked straight at her. Daphne would later say the eye unnerved her, that it felt like Moody was staring into her soul, but Athena stared back with narrowed eyes.

The man began talking about Unforgivable Curses, and Athena wished Narcissa had taught her them. _Don't be dramatic. You wouldn't use them, it'd be suicide._ Still, the urge remained.

Moody pulled out a spider, and asked who knew what any of the three Unforgivables were.

Ron Weasley raised his hand, "The I-Imperious Curse."

"Aye," said the man with missing body parts, "That one gave the Ministry quite a hassle after the war. The Imperious Curse allows one to control the mind of another, forcing them to do your bidding. Quite a lot of those known to do You-Know-Who's work claimed Imperious to get out of Azkaban." Here, his eyes focused squarely on Drisana. "The trouble was sorting out the liars from those telling the truth."

Drisana's lips curled, but the girl had the good sense to stay quiet, and for that Athena was grateful. She loved Drisana, they'd grown up together, but sometimes her mouth got her into trouble.

Moody cast the Imperious on the spider, had it dancing about, and Granger was growing visibly agitated. Was she afraid of spiders? Or some sort of spider-rights thing? The girl was known to have a heart that bled even more than Tracey's.

It didn't really matter. It was an insect, and she had no doubt when they got to the Killing Curse Moody would have no hesitation in killing the thing.

Next, Neville Longbottom named the Cruciatus Curse. The story behind that was a sad one, and one Athena knew well. Another kid with parents lost to the war, even if they were on the other side of it. She didn't know if utter insanity was better or worse than death. She wondered how Hyacinth, who had neither a mother like Athena, nor a father like Theo (not that either of those parents had done the best job) would feel. Was death preferable?

She thought of her father, reduced to a husk of a human being, wandering Saint Mungo's insanity ward in a white robe and not even recognizing her.

She didn't know, but it didn't matter. The man who had taken her father from her was right in front of her. Bellatrix Lestrange was locked in Azkaban where Neville didn't have to ever see her, and the Dark Lord wasn't here at all to bother Hyacinth (at least, for now).

She took in a deep breath, squeezed Daphne's hand as Granger cried out at the spider's torture. Finally, Moody named the last curse. Looked at Hyacinth, said something dramatic about how she was the only known person to survive the Killing Curse.

And killed the spider.

 _The death of_ _ **Notorious Death Eater**_ _Evan Rosier at the hand of_ _ **heroic Auror**_ _Alastor Moody has been reported today, April 23rd, 1980._

Was it that quick? An instant, and the life of Lord Rosier extinguished like a candle flame that had drawn on too long?

One day, she would kill Alastor Moody.

. . .

The French and Bulgarian students arrived in October, with astounding flair. Beauxbatons arrived in a flying carriage, and Durmstrang in a ship emerging from the Great Lake, both of which were apparently large enough for the students to live in for the year, although they would be eating and attending classes with the Hogwarts population.

The Bulgarians sat at Slytherin, and the French with Ravenclaw.

A Bulgarian girl with thick dark hair and shimmering dark eyes made herself quickly acquainted with our favorite group of Slytherins.

"Yana," she said with a smile, "It is good to meet you." Her accent was noticeable, but not thick.

Drisana smiled brightly. "It's an absolute pleasure to make your acquaintance."

Hyacinth's eyebrows rose through the ceiling, and Blaise began coughing, having to be patted on the back by Pansy.

Yana ignored this, and began asking Drisana questions immediately -about the weather, the professors, the classes, the students, to which the Malfoy girl was all too eager to give her every last drop of information she had.

Hyacinth felt the strongest tightness in her chest, but ignored it. She'd never witnessed Drisana focus so much positive attention on one person, and she probably just wasn't used to it yet.

Besides, Yana obviously had to be seventeen, and she would soon realize Drisana was three years her junior and move on to the seventh-years.

Theo had a hand on her shoulder and she leaned into him, pushing away her annoyance at her blonde counterpart.

. . .

Of course, because the powers that be enjoyed testing Hyacinth's patience, Yana did not move on to the seventh-years, and indeed seemed quite content to attach herself to Drisana Malfoy.

Hyacinth was, of course, in the library with Hermione. They were doing their annotations for the second chapter of this year's Charms textbook.

"I've heard," said Hermione stiffly, suddenly, "Professor Moody's planning on teaching us how to resist the Imperious Curse this week."

"To teach us that, he would have to use it on us," Hyacinth said dismissively, circling a useful line on the page.

"He is."

Hyacinth thought about it. "It's a bit mad, but I'd rather learn in a classroom than when somebody's broken into my mind."

"It's making my skin crawl to think about him in my mind."

"Come on, 'Mione, if anyone's got the willpower to resist an Imperious, it's you."

Speaking of Hermione's willpower, a certain pair of twins decided to join them at that moment. And it wasn't the Patils.

Fred sat down across from Hermione, next to Hyacinth, while George stood behind him with a hand on his shoulder.

"Hermione," he was smiling wide, "You may recall last year when I asked you out, and you said no because there was nowhere to go. Well, Sirius Black is innocent, and we can go to Hogsmeade."

"These are all true statements," Hermione agreed absently as she scribbled down a note in handwriting only she and the professors could read.

"So, will you do me the _honor_ of going to Hogsmeade with me this weekend?"

Hyacinth was grinning, watching Hermione's reaction. She took a deep breath, looked up at him.

"Yes, Fred, if it makes you happy, I'll join you at Hogsmeade."

George immediately clapped Fred on the back, whose mood, impossibly, had skyrocketed, and they scampered off, Madam Pince glaring at the fools.

"Finally," said Hyacinth.

"Oh shut up. And what about you? Anybody at your heels this year?"

Hyacinth shrugged. "I think Ginny's got a crush on me again, but Pansy thinks it never went away, so who knows. But that's Ginny. She's a nice girl, very driven, but I don't know." She scratched her neck awkwardly.

"You aren't interested, Hya. If you were, you'd _know."_

"It's not the biggest priority."

"I feel the same, but it's at the point where denying him just tampers further with my education."

"Come off it, you know you could've easily given him a flat no and he would have left you alone."

"Maybe I enjoy his company, but -"

"Enjoy whose company?" Tracey had arrived. She looked tired, but had the pleasant disposition as always.

"Fred's," explained Hyacinth, "She's just agreed to go to Hogsmeade with him this weekend."

Tracey made a pretend-shocked expression. " _Who_ could have guessed?"

"Oh hush, the pair of you." Hermione looked back down at her notes, but she was smiling, and fooling absolutely no one.

"Anyway," said Tracey, "This Ancient Runes essay is getting the best of me, don't suppose I could have a look at either of your notes?"

Hyacinth slid her textbook to the other girl, and she began flipping to the page they were studying this week.

They settled into a quiet, familiar hum of work, until the hour grew late and they had to head off for the dorms.

. . .

There were two days remaining until the Goblet of Fire would choose a champion from each school, and Fred and George had come up with a scheme.

Which surprised no one.

There was a squabble of Hermione telling them it wouldn't work, them insisting that it would, and then the pair of them turning into wizened old men.

It was all quite amusing to Hyacinth. The only student from Slytherin entering was Cassius Warrington, a seventh-year, and the whole House was rooting for him.

Things, however, did not go as planned.

. . .

Two days later was Friday. The air was abuzz with excitement, primarily because the champions were about to be revealed, but also because it was a Hogsmeade weekend and the students would be released upon the townspeople the following afternoon.

And so they gathered, the Slytherin table crowded with Bulgarian students (Yana, of course, still clung to Drisana who was eating up the attention), waiting with tangible anticipation.

The lights were dimmed, all eyes on the glowing blue flames emitted by the ornate goblet in the front of the Great Hall.

Dumbledore silenced the students, and the first scrap of paper emerged.

"VIKTOR KRUM!" shouted the Headmaster, to raucous applause all across the hall.

The second paper.

"FLEUR DELACOUR!"

And all of Hogwarts waited with bated breath for their champion, Hyacinth hoping against hope the goblet chose Cassius.

"CEDRIC DIGGORY!"

Cedric Diggory was a Hufflepuff. A nice boy, by all accounts. But he wasn't Cassius.

Grudgingly, Slytherin applauded. _At least he's not a Gryffindor._

The champions were ushered out of the Great Hall through a door on the side, and the buzz began again, everyone wondering what the first task might be.

The goblet, however, was not finished. All the students watched in shock as it spit out another paper.

Dumbledore plucked it out of the air, expression cautious and surprised. He read it, looking up grimly as everyone in the hall except for one wondered what on Earth was going.

"HYACINTH POTTER!" the Headmaster bellowed.

Everything in her went cold, her stomach dropping. She hadn't entered, hadn't even tried -and even if she _had,_ the cup had already selected the Hogwarts champion. Everyone was looking at her.

She looked up through the confusion, and Hermione was looking straight at her, confused.

"HYACINTH POTTER!" roared Dumbledore.

Theo pushed her shoulder, Tracey hissed "Hya, you have to _go."_

Drisana was looking at her, more astonishment on her face than Hyacinth had ever seen, gray eyes wide.

So she stood, all eyes on her not for the first time, and straightened her spine as she walked to the front of the room.

Dumbledore's demeanor was deadly serious.

"Hyacinth, did you put your name in the Goblet of Fire?"

"No, sir."

"Did you have an older student do it for you?"

" _No_ , sir."

He frowned. "Very well," he said, and led her to where the champions had gone.

"But -but sir, I didn't enter, I'm not -"

"Miss Potter, I'm afraid the magic is binding," said Barty Crouch, here from the Ministry for the Triwizard Tournament. "You are, as of now, a Triwizard Champion whether you chose to enter or not."

There was an uproar as Madame Maxime and Igor Karkaroff burst into the room, the other champions staring at her, expressions unreadable.

"Why does 'ogwarts get two champions? This is not fair!" declared Madame Maxime.

"And she is a minor -why then were we not allowed to bring our students under seventeen?"

Dumbledore and Crouch did their best to calm them, and they left the room with their respective champions, each still unsatisfied.

"Cedric, my boy," said Dumbledore, "The first task is a month away, and it could be anything. I should think it best if you head off to prepare."

Cedric nodded, and offered Hyacinth a friendly smile as he left.

McGonagall and Snape entered, ever the dynamic duo. Hyacinth had a running theory that they were secretly best friends.

"Albus, surely you do not mean to let her compete," began McGonagall, eyes concerned.

"I'm afraid we have no choice," he said.

"Why not? How exactly is an enchanted cup going to retaliate if we disobey it?" scoffed Snape.

"If," began Dumbledore,"Miss Potter is telling the truth -and we must assume that she is -then that means someone else put her name in that cup. This is a dangerous event, and we can be sure that whoever put her name in the cup does not mean her well. Perhaps it would be best to let events unfold."

 _WHAT?_

Maybe it was just Hyacinth, but it seemed a little bit weird that Dumbledore was talking about how dangerous this tournament was and then proceeding to say they should just 'let events unfold'.

"You cannot be serious," Snape replied.

"I am absolutely serious. Now, off to bed, all of you."

If Snape and McGonagall were miffed at being ordered off to bed when they were grown adults, they gave no indication, and Snape led her by the shoulder out of the chamber.

He escorted her all the way back to the Slytherin dorms. Every student they passed gave Hyacinth a look that was either confused or judgmental, so eventually she just took to walking with her head down.

He stopped her just outside of the Slytherin dorms.

"You didn't put your name in, or find some clever way around the age circle?"

"No, sir. I wouldn't have entered even if I could have."

"I know. Typically, Slytherins are less concerned with glory than we are our own lives. It is no coincidence that only one from our House chose to enter. In any case, you're in it now. I suspect, for the cup to have chosen your name, someone else must have put it in under a different school entirely, guaranteeing you would be chosen. Dumbledore was correct in saying this person does not wish you well. Do you understand?"

"Somebody wants me dead or seriously injured?"

"Precisely. Unfortunately for you, that statement will always be true, but circumstances are growing riskier. I want you to lock yourself inside that library for the next month, preferably with Miss Granger to aide you, and not leave until you have prepared yourself for _any possible task._ Do you still understand?"

"Absolutely, sir."

Snape nodded and left with a turn of his cape.

She was met by the general Slytherin population with an air of curiosity, and perhaps a little mistrust.

"How'd you do it?" asked Flora Carrow, sitting next to her twin sister Hestia, working on some assignment.

"I didn't," she said, and it was the truth, but only some of them believed her, and she just put her head down again and made her way to her dorm.

All the girls were there.

"Cassius isn't pleased with you," Pansy commented, something gleaming in her eyes.

Hyacinth wasn't surprised. She imagined it felt rather like he'd been cheated, passed over for some seventh-year who hadn't even had the House loyalty to tell him she was entering.

But that wasn't what happened.

"I'm sorry, it wasn't me, Snape thinks -"

"Why would you, though?" cut in Pansy. "You've got enough money to last a lifetime just like the rest of us, you've already got fame and glory, wasn't it enough?"

Hyacinth glanced at Drisana. She had her head in her hands. She must have heard Pansy's accusation but she gave no indication of it.

"I just told you," repeated Hyacinth, tiredly, "I didn't put my name in. Snape thinks -"

"' _Snape thinks'",_ mocked the black-haired girl, her voice at an unattractive pitch. "Snape would believe anything you told him, we all know you're his favorite, and how else would you get pulled? You must have cheated somehow."

" _Pansy,"_ said Tracey, forcefully. "If she said she didn't do it, she didn't do it."

"Oh, that's likely," Pansy muttered.

"Pansy, just stop," Athena cut in like a parent who had grown tired of her children bickering, "It's like you just said, there's no reason for her to enter. And even if she did, you'd have done the same thing if you knew how so why don't you leave it alone?"

Pansy pouted, but didn't fire back, and Daphne gave Hyacinth a smile and a pat on the shoulder with an offer to braid her hair before they all went to sleep. She accepted because, despite everything, there was still something soothing about Daphne braiding her hair like they were eleven again.

. . .

She missed the next sunrise; by the time she woke up, Drisana was gone, the sun was up, and Tracey was telling her she'd better get in the shower if she didn't want to miss breakfast.

Hyacinth was hoping against hope Drisana believed her, but it really didn't seem like it.

When she got out, still running her comb through her hair, Tracey was waiting, tapping an imaginary watch on her wrist.

"Alright, I'm coming," she appeased, sliding into her shoes, and they set off, the last two to leave the dorms.

"Is she upset with me?" she asked Tracey quietly as they walked towards the Great Hall.

"Not exactly. She doesn't know whether or not to believe you, and she's stressed for you because she knows this isn't safe. You should've seen her when we first got back back to the common room, all in a fit. And if you _did_ put your name in, which I know you didn't, she's even more upset with you because you didn't tell her and also because you put yourself at risk for no reason."

At least Tracey believed her. Drisana would come around, sooner or later.

Drisana was at breakfast, but she was already engrossed in a conversation with Yana, the sight of which set Hyacinth's teeth to grinding. When she sat next to the blonde, she barely noticed Hyacinth. Tracey looked at her with sympathetic blue eyes, and Theo gave her a smile.

She had bigger things to worry about, but today was a Hogsmeade weekend and she would take what comforts she could for the day, and spend the evening in the library.

"Oh, you're going to _love_ Hogsmeade," Drisana said to Yana excitedly, smile wide, "I'll show you around!"

Hyacinth almost flinched, but had been in Slytherin long enough to keep her face under control.

When it was time, she stood between Tracey and Theo in the line of students waiting to be released. Hermione was somewhere further back with Fred, and Tracey and Hyacinth theorized for a moment with matching grins what the pair might get up to.

Theo rolled his eyes. "No doubt the kind of nauseating ordeal that Gryffindors make out of romance."

"I think they're cute together," said Tracey.

"They're not technically together yet," pointed out Hyacinth, but she agreed.

"Speaking of together," muttered Tracey, "Anybody know when _that_ happened?" She tipped her head in the direction of Pansy, who was hanging off of Blaise's arm with a sickly-sweet smile.

"Been brewing for a while, but knowing the two of them I doubt it'll last. Blaise is too girl-crazy and Pansy's too boy-crazy for either of them to be monogamous for long," Theo explained.

"True. I just hope it doesn't end badly. The last thing any of us need is more of a mess," commented Hyacinth, and her two companions nodded their heads in agreement.

Finally, McGonagall released the horde of students into the chilly October air, and the trio decided to head towards Honeydukes first. Tracey had an insatiable sweet tooth.

As the girl that always reminded Hyacinth of sunny days was pulling candy bar on candy bar from the shelves of her favorite shop, a girl with red hair in two French braids away from her face and constellations of freckles approached Hyacinth. She was wearing a yellow sweatshirt that said "HUFFLEPUFF" across the front in bold black letters.

"Hyacinth, I just wanted to say that I don't think you put your name in, and anyone with sense knows everything Ron's saying about you isn't true."

"Ron?" It had literally been one day. How much did this boy hate her?

Susan's cheeks turned pink. "I'm -I'm sorry, I thought you knew. It doesn't matter, he's just jealous."

"But he shouldn't be," protested Hyacinth, "I didn't ask for this and I'm not happy about it."

Susan put a hand on her arm, and her eyes were warm. "I know, honey."

Hyacinth wasn't used to being called terms of endearment by anybody but her aunt, and occasionally Narcissa. The only one of her friends that did was Hermione, who sometimes called her 'flower'. But there was nothing condescending about the way Susan said it, not like how some girls called each other things like that to make themselves seem superior. It was sweet, really, and when Susan gave her a smile and went on her way, Hyacinth was left with something strange.

"My stomach hurts," she said simply, watching the door Susan had gone through.

Tracey was laughing, and Theo smirking.

"Hya, don't look now but I think you've just caught a crush on Susan Bones," he said with a snicker.

Hyacinth shook her head. "I've never had a crush before."

"Exactly, that's why you don't know what it feels like. You're a bit of a late bloomer on that one, but you could do a lot worse, as first crushes go," answered Tracey.

"Susan's a pleasant girl, but a _Hufflepuff?"_ Theo teased, mirth in his crystalline eyes.

"Shut up," she retorted. She felt her cheeks get hot but hoped her skin was dark enough to cover it. She still wasn't convinced she had a crush. How would she even know?

"You're blushing!" cried Tracey. Damn.

. . .

"A crush?" clarified Hermione that night, when they were up to their arms in books about random topics that Hermione thought might come up during the tournament.

"Yes," she affirmed.

Hermione gave her a sly smile. "Why do _you_ want to know?"

"Educational purposes," lied Hyacinth with a wave of her hand.

"If you say so. You want to know what it feels like physically, or mentally?"

"Generally, I guess."

"Well, your stomach flips. You picture yourself with them. You want their attention. You blush, sometimes, but with my skin you usually can't tell."

Did she picture herself with Susan Bones? She barely knew her. They'd had classes together since they were eleven, and all she really knew about the girl was that she was nice, kind, and a decent student. She liked Herbology, which was typical for a Hufflepuff, but then, _she_ had taken advanced and private potions lessons, so what could she say?

But when she thought about it, going to Hogsmeade with the girl, sitting next to each other at Quidditch games, sometimes eating together, sitting beside the Great Lake, a thousand other options flitting through her mind, she found herself quite interested in any or all of them.

"I haven't thought about it before," she murmured as she looked at the page on self-defense against various magical creatures.

"You'll have to tell me who the lucky one is sooner or later," replied Hermione with a smile.

"Anyhow, how was your _date_ with Fred?"

Hermione's smile stretched to her ears. "It was nice."

"Just nice?"

"It was very nice. Now hush and make sure you're absorbing this information, can't have you dying before you've even told me who your first crush is."

. . .

"It feels like . . . you constantly want to spend time with them," Daphne answered that night. "Like they're the most interesting thing, or even if they're not, like anything would be more fun if they were with you."

"Oh, you're a sap," remarked Athena. "Anyway, for me it feels more like everything's calmer when they're around. More fun, yeah, but also just . . . more okay."

"Who's the sap now?" Daphne retorted, but she was smiling to herself.

. . .

"Listen, Hyacinth, you never tell a girl you like her, it makes you look like an idiot," her godfather told her very seriously though an enchanted mirror he had sent her.

"But how do you even know if you do?"

"You'll know when you know."

That was useless.

"In any case, let's talk about this Triwizard Tournament business. Hyacinth, I want you to be very careful. Whoever put your name in the Goblet of Fire is no friend to you."

"I've figured that one out."

"Good. Now, the tasks could be absolutely anything, so try and get ahead. The others will have an advantage over you, they've three more years of education."

 **A/N: Thank you for reading! If you liked it, please take the time to review. I would appreciate it. Or even just tell me what you think about the Petunia situation -or anything that came up in this chapter. I'd love to hear your theories for what's coming next.**

 **Also, I've said this before, but just in case: I don't always agree with the actions of the characters. And if there's anything plot-wise or whatever that felt off or weird to you, I've probably already noticed it, but with school starting I don't really have the time to go back and edit every line of these chapters before posting. Also, I mean, this is the longest thing I've ever written, period. I am very invested in it and very proud of it, even if it doesn't have as many reviews or favs/follows as other stories do -I appreciate every one of you that reads this and likes it and keeps up with it.**

 **That being said, as much as this story means to me, please keep in mind that ultimately, it's just a fanfiction. If you don't like this one, I'm sure you'll find a dozen others (more like a thousand others) on this site that you DO like, so keep in mind that if you're thinking of saying something rude/mean for no reason, it's really not necessary.**


	12. Of Curses and Creatures

_It doesn't matter what place you come in_ , Narcissa Malfoy said in a letter to Hyacinth about the whole ordeal, _so long as you survive. As for Drisana, she isn't cross with you. She's just distracted right now. Don't pay it any mind._

. . .

The next Defense lesson was the lesson in which Moody had decided he would teach them the Imperious Curse. Due to poor scheduling that year, the entire fourth year, from every House, had that class together.

They took turns, some students being more or less resilient than others to whatever funny, awkward, or embarrassing thing the professor tried to have them do. Drisana lasted for about a full minute before Moody had her dancing like a chicken.

Shortly thereafter came Hyacinth's turn.

" _Imperio!"_

It felt like a blanket settled over her mind.

 _Tell Susan she's pretty._

 _What? I'd rather not._

 _No, you want to. You fancy her._

 _Shut up._

 _Well then why don't you go slap Ron Weasley?_

That was tempting, and she felt herself walking towards the ginger boy.

 _I shouldn't._

 _Who's going to stop you?_

 _I shouldn't. You don't go around giving people reasons to hate you._

 _He already hates you. Just a slap, it won't even be that painful._

 _Yeah but if I hit him he'll be justified in hating me._

 _In his mind, he already is._

 _Yeah but who cares about his mind? My mind is what matters, and if I go hit him, I can't blame him for hating me._

 _Just do it._

The urge got stronger and she took another step forward.

 _No._

After a moment, the mind-blanket cleared entirely.

"Good job, Potter."

Hermione had a similar result, and the last student to go was Athena.

She stepped forward, and Hyacinth could sense the raw energy emanating from her. Athena hated Moody more than Lockhart, wished desperately Lupin had stayed, and they all knew, imagined killing him on the daily.

Perhaps he was no longer her greatest fear, perhaps he had morphed into her greatest enemy.

Perhaps they were the same thing.

Moody raised his wand, but it flew out of his hand as soon as he spoke the curse, his body blasted backwards by the sheer magical power rolling off of Athena in waves.

Her face appeared entirely calm, smooth tawny skin settled into a placid expression.

Moody appeared taken entirely aback.

"Rosier, stay after class."

. . .

 _Great,_ thought Athena, _now I have to be alone in a room with my father's murderer._

The door closed behind the last student, but she knew Daphne would be waiting for her right outside the door.

"You were instructed to try to resist the Imperius Curse, not assault your professor," said the murderer gruffly.

It took everything she had, but she made her mouth move. "I apologize, sir. I didn't intend it."

"Don't you think you're getting a bit old for accidental magic?" he snarked, turning and taking a swig from his flask.

Was he drinking alcohol? No, he couldn't be. He drank from that thing constantly and never appeared even tipsy. In her experience, people tended to be less paranoid and analytical when drunk, not moreso.

So what was it?

Murder juice? The blood of those he'd killed? The tears of men who had families back home to get back to?

No, she knew these were ridiculous and unhelpful suggestions from the sarcastic department of her mind. So, then what? It had to be something strange, no one would carry pumpkin juice in a flask.

Some sort of potion, then. But what? Well, the man was rather old, and it was her understanding that older people tended to require certain potions and tonics rather frequently, at least unhealthy ones. And a man missing a limb and an eyeball probably classed as unhealthy.

 _Good. Let him get sick and die. Let him finally repay his debts._

He turned back to her, his robotic eye focusing. Revulsion rolled through her.

"Alright then, but I want you to work on controlling your emotions. Accidental magic doesn't come out of nowhere."

She left, and it was all she could do not to slam the door behind her. Daphne was waiting, eyes wide with concern, and took her hand immediately.

. . .

The night before the first task, Fred and George Weasley came barreling into the library, both out of breath.

"Hya -cinth," huffed George.

"The -first -task," continued Fred.

"Slow down, take a breath," said Hermione, "The first task is tomorrow, we know."

The twins took her advice and caught their breath. George leaned in, his voice low, while Fred looked around them to be sure no one was listening in.

"The first task is dragons," George whispered.

" _Dragons?"_ hissed Hyacinth.

"Dragons," he confirmed.

"Our older brother Charlie works with dragons in Romania and he was part of the crew that brought them in. He told us, and we've just seen them with our own eyes," continued Fred.

"Does she have to _fight_ one?" asked Hermione.

"Don't know," said George, "But I doubt she'll have to sing it a song."

Hermione looked at her, eyes filled with alarm. "Are you ready for a dragon?"

Hyacinth searched her memory. Dragons had very few weak points, but they were the eyes and throat. If you could catch it with its jaw open you might be able to damage it. There was a fireproof charm as well.

"Maybe? Probably enough not to die."

Hermione checked the time. "It's already seven."

"You might as well go get some rest," said George. "If you're confident in your ability to survive this, a good night's sleep wouldn't hurt."

Fred nodded his agreement, and even Hermione thought it best.

"Studies show your reflexes and improvisational skills work better when you're well-rested, which is kind of common sense anyways."

She went to sleep early that night, taking a sleeping draught she'd brewed by herself over the summer because she knew otherwise she'd be up all night thinking about dragons.

. . .

Morning came too soon, and before she knew it she was eating robotically, reviewing every spell she knew that might help her not die.

Susan came up to her, wearing a black jumper with her long red hair falling in waves around her.

"Good luck today, Hyacinth," she said with a smile, and then she was gone.

Shortly thereafter, Cedric Diggory walked past, caught sight of her, and stopped.

"Good luck today, Hyacinth," he said with a smile.

 _Does he know?_

"Cedric!" she called just as he was walking away. She gestured to the side and he stood next to her.

"I know this is kind of late, but the first task is dragons -I only just found out last night, I'm sorry," she confided.

His eyes were golden, and they grew wide. " _Dragons?_ Do -do you think Krum and Fleur . . .?"

"I don't know. I just wanted to make sure you were ready, we've still got a few hours."

He nodded. "Thanks, Hyacinth."

. . .

The morning passed, and it was time for the first task. Hyacinth was directed into the Champions' Tent, where she and the others had a few last minutes to prepare themselves, and would be given their task.

Hermione got her attention, standing just outside the tent.

"Hyacinth. Are you absolutely sure you're ready?"

"As ready as I'll ever be."

That seemed to break Hermione, for she leapt straight into the tent and engulfed Hyacinth in her arms. Hyacinth was just hugging her back when the distinct sound of a camera shutter clicked, and the pair snapped apart in alarm.

"Oh, young love!" cried the abominable voice of Rita Skeeter, whom Hyacinth had met exactly once. Hyacinth was wondering if it was even worth it to point out that she and Hermione weren't in love, that they were both interested in completely different people, and that it was really just a hug. But since that would probably only make them look guilty, she said nothing, and Viktor Krum quickly shooed the woman away.

Before long, Dumbledore, Crouch, and the other Headmasters came in. Hermione ran off, and they were assigned their dragons.

Hyacinth was pretty sure there was something distinctly unfair about her getting the biggest and fiercest dragon, but there wasn't much she could do about it.

 _An egg?_ she thought. _I can get an egg._

It was a bit harder than that. The dragon was about a billion times bigger than her, and didn't seem at all pleased about her being there.

" _Infernium repelus!"_ That was the fireproof spell, but she wasn't keen to test its limits, so she quickly dashed behind a six-foot tall boulder, breathing heavy.

Thinking, thinking, thinking -what could she do? She'd have to sneak past it to even get close to that egg. She knew of an invisibility spell, the Disillusionment Charm, but that really only worked if it was dark or shadowy, and of course the sun was shining bright today.

She _did,_ however, have an invisibility cloak that worked without fail, and she knew of a summoning spell.

Wouldn't that basically tell the whole school that she had the cloak of invisibility?

No, it was commonplace for people to make or buy cheap invisibility cloaks, that's probably what everyone would think hers was, and it was the best option for her to complete this task.

" _Accio_ cloak of invisibility!"

It took a minute or two, but soon the translucent cloak was flying into her hands, and she covered herself with it even as she heard the dragon stomping towards her.

She stepped out, watched the creature look behind the boulder. It turned around, puzzled, eyes darting across the arena, nostrils wide.

Right. It could probably smell her, so best to snatch the egg before it pinpointed her. She ran forward to where the egg was tucked into a nest, glistening gold, and plucked it out. It was solid and heavy, and she removed her cloak, revealing for all to see that she had indeed completed the task. The stands erupted into cheers, and she was quickly pulled from the arena while the dragon tamers came to subdue the Hungarian Horntail.

Scores were tallied and she came in second, just behind Fleur, who'd beaten her by about ten seconds.

. . .

Hyacinth sat in the Slytherin common room that night, golden egg on her lap.

"I never took you for the Mother Goose type," drawled Blaise with a smile as he sat next to her.

"And I never took Pansy for your type," she teased.

He shrugged. "It's fun. Might as well have some of that while we can."

"I guess you're right."

"Speaking of which, how about you and Bones?"

She froze. "Bones?"

"Susan Bones? The redheaded one with all the freckles that came by the Slytherin table to wish you luck, even though the _other_ Hogwarts champion is from Hufflepuff."

"Ginny also wished me luck this morning, and she's a redhead with freckles."

"She's a Slytherin who had every reason to wish you luck. And besides, she's had a crush on you since she met you. If that was going to happen, it would have by now."

"Fair point."

"Almost as fair as Susan Bones." He had a sly look in his eyes that accentuated the smile perfectly.

"Oh, shut up."

"Anyway, did you figure out what the clue is?"

"No, I tried to open it a while ago and it just made this awful scream. Incomprehensible."

"Maybe _that's_ the clue. You know any creatures that like to scream at the top of their lungs without stopping?"

"Not off the top of my head."

Drisana came into the common room then, and looked Hyacinth directly in the eyes for what felt like the first time in weeks. Hyacinth stood without realizing, or knowing why.

Drisana had hit a growth spurt over the past several months, and now stood a few inches taller than Hyacinth, who was already taller than most of the girls in their year. Hyacinth was looking up at her, at platinum hair and quicksilver eyes and fair skin, even her lips were pale pink. It was like all color had been drained from Drisana, but it was never there to begin with.

"Hi," said the blonde.

"Hey."

"You did well today."

"Thanks. I tried."

"I -Hya, if you -if something happened to you, I . . ."

 _What, did the giant dragon screeching at me finally get you to tear your attention away from the Bulgarian girl for half a moment?_

It was a bitter thought.

"I know."

Drisana looked at her feet before squaring her shoulders and shoving her hands in her pockets. She had taken, recently, to wearing trousers rather than skirts, and the look suited her. Narcissa had had a fit, of course, but even she couldn't deny that her daughter's height and frame made her look even better in trousers than she had in ballgowns.

And she did look good -but the Malfoys always did, and really the socially elite in general had a tendency to be presentable.

Drisana had never been one for public affection, and so it took Hyacinth quite by surprise when she hugged her. But she hugged back, wondering if this was some symbolic way of patching up their friendship.

The taller girl smelled like lemon. It was a fresh, clean scent, and Hyacinth wouldn't have minded if the hug had been longer.

But it was nice to have Drisana acting like she cared again. Maybe Narcissa had been right, and this Yana thing was just a distraction -after all, she couldn't say thinking about Susan Bones didn't distract her sometimes (especially during Ancient Runes).

They would be fine.

. . .

Early in December, Professor Snape called a House meeting with the fourth-years and above, in some classroom that was big enough to host all of them.

He was, as per usual, dressed in all black, his hair greasy as ever. Hyacinth wished he'd just wash it a little bit more frequently, but it did very little to diminish the respect she had for the professor who had managed to teach her the ins and outs of potions in just a couple of years.

Said professor was now looking at them all like they were the bane of his existence.

"The obligation has fallen to my shoulders, as your Head of House, to inform you that we will be hosting a Yule Ball this year. It will take place the night before you hooligans are released for Christmas break. You are permitted to bring dates, and your headmaster would like me to encourage you to seek companions from one of our guest schools, although personally I am not at all concerned with who you bring." He was looking quite uncomfortable here.

"Furthermore, you will notice there are no students beneath fourth year here. Any student third year or lower cannot attend unless they are specifically invited by an older student, and said student must request permission from their Head of House. Finally, should any of you take it upon yourselves to embarrass me, this House, or the legacy of Salazar Slytherin, I will make every single day of the rest of your career at Hogwarts agony. You are expected to behave with the class and dignity this House is built upon."

He swept the crowd of students with a long, measuring look. "Am I absolutely clear?"

A singular "Yes, sir," spoken by many voices responded.

. . .

"There's a _ball!_ And we get to bring _dates!"_ Lavender and Parvati were going absolutely mental the next time Hyacinth saw them, which was how she knew the word had reached Gryffindor.

"I know who Hermione's going with," said Parvati with a friendly sparkle in her eyes.

"Oh, _everyone_ knows who Hermione's going with!" replied Lavender, smiling knowingly.

"Everyone knows?" asked Hermione.

"We all saw it coming, to be fair," Hyacinth pointed out. The Gryffindor gossip girls nodded in agreement.

"Is that so? And who are _you_ going with, Hya?"

Her cheeks were instantly aflame. "I don't know."

Lavender and Parvati caught this, however. "Oh, Hyacinth, you _like_ somebody!" shrieked Lavender.

"No -I don't know, it's not like we're dating."

"You could be," argued Parvati, "Who is it?"

Hermione was looking at her with curiosity, just as Fred came bounding over and looped his arms around her in a hug from behind.

"Ladies," he greeted, "What are we talking about?"

"We're trying to figure out who Hyacinth's got it bad for," confided Parvati. Hermione nodded in confirmation, the fool grinned.

"I bet I know."

Hyacinth's heart picked up speed. "How would you know?"

"Well, maybe I don't know who you like, but I know who's interested in _you_ , and ideally they're the same person."

"That could just be wishful thinking, though, and then you could expose some poor soul for no reason," brought up Hermione.

"Fair enough. How 'bout I tell you, my love, and you tell me if you think it's the same as the person Slytherin's princess is after."

Hermione agreed to this scheme, somehow, and Fred leaned in and whispered something to her.

The problem was that Hermione didn't actually _know_ who Hyacinth was interested in anyways, so how could this work?

Hermione's mouth dropped open into an O shape, and then she smiled. "They would be cute together but how did you find out?"

"I know people."

"Who is it?" demanded Lavender, giggling.

Hermione, seemingly possessed by the devil, leaned to Lavender and told her, who told Parvati, and soon they were all giggling and agreeing that Hyacinth and this mystery person would make a cute pair.

 _Is it Susan? But even if she did, how would Fred know that?_

Hermione pulled her forward, making sure no passersby would hear.

"Cho Chang."

 _Cho Chang?_

She was a Ravenclaw, Hyacinth knew. A year above her. What did she want with Hyacinth? They only knew each other in passing.

"Oh, look at her face," murmured Parvati, "It's not who she wants."

Fred shrugged. "In that case, who cares? Cho'll get over it, I'm sure. Anyways, who _do_ you have your eye on?"

"Nobody," Hyacinth muttered.

. . .

"So Cho Chang has a thing for you?"

It was the next day, and she was spending her free period with Theo and Tracey.

She shrugged. "I guess so."

"Not quite who you were hoping for?" Theo asked.

"You know it wasn't. Anyways, I don't know what to do. You think I should just ask _her_ to the ball? I mean, at least that's a sure thing, right?"

Tracey chewed her lip. "I don't know, Hya. It's not like we have these every year, you know? You might as well try to go with who you want to go with."

"Well, technically, _we_ do have these every year," pointed out Theo.

"Yeah, but those are just our circle, and we can't exactly bring dates. I mean, maybe, but we _don't."_

"Regardless, I think it might be smarter to just save any potential embarrassment and go with the safe bet."

Tracey shook her head. "I think you should follow your heart."

Well. That didn't help her at all.

"So who are you two going with?"

Tracey beamed then, the kind of signature smile that radiated. Her teeth were dazzling white and her lips were full, coated in lip gloss. "It's not guaranteed yet, but I've got an idea someone might be asking me soon."

"And you, Theo?"

"I don't know. Pansy and Blaise are going together, Daphne and Athena, you can be sure Drisana and Yana will wind up there together. In our House, that leaves you and Tracey, and you've both already got other ideas."

"You could go with Ginny," suggested Hyacinth.

"Or Astoria," added Tracey.

"Fine girls, truly," Hyacinth continued.

"Absolutely lovely," Tracey finished.

Theo laughed, it was a rare, sweet sound. "I suppose. Although, if I go with Astoria, Merlin knows Daphne will be on my tail about it."

"Ginny's also got six older brothers," Hyacinth said, "And most of them aren't fond of Slytherin to begin with."

"Yeah, but she's at least got a personality. Astoria just hangs around and parrots whatever you say back to you. It makes for the dryest conversations."

"What, you don't care to be reminded of yourself?" teased Hyacinth.

"I sure don't," said Theo seriously.

. . .

Tracey did, in fact, get asked to the Yule Ball two days later, by none other than Fleur Delacour.

She came into the common room clutching a bouquet of roses, earning raised eyebrows from Hyacinth, Blaise, and Athena, who were sitting in some armchairs in the corner.

She had that radiant smile again, and she came over and squeezed herself next to Hyacinth.

"I've just been asked to the Yule Ball."

"By whom, exactly?" asked Hyacinth.

"Fleur."

Blaise's jaw dropped. "Fleur Delacour?"

"How many other Fleurs do you know?" retorted Athena.

" _Yes_ , Fleur Delacour," Tracey confirmed.

"I didn't know you were so friendly with her?" Hyacinth was confused. She'd never even noticed the two speak, but she supposed she wasn't with Tracey every hour of the day, and the girl had plenty of time to flirt with French girls.

"We started talking one day, she needed directions to the Potions classroom and I walked her there, and we've just been talking ever since. She's quite nice. Passionate. I think if she were a Hogwarts student she'd be a Gryffindor."

"A _Gryffindor?_ Merlin, Tracey, don't insult the girl, I thought you liked her?" cried Blaise.

"Oh, come off it, they're not all bad."

"I suppose one or two of them may be tolerable. Anyhow, Hyacinth, out of all of us, that just leaves you without a date."

"I'll find one," she assured him, but she still hadn't made a choice. Was it better to go with head or heart? What she wanted, or what was easier?

For one thing, she only had a couple of weeks left until the ball. The next Hogsmeade weekend was coming up, and Narcissa had gotten permission to take the group of Slytherins shopping for formal attire outside of Hogsmeade, which meant she'd have to find a date soon so they could coordinate clothes.

So, then. Decide. Cho or Susan?

Well, she could always just say screw either of those options and go with Theo. It'd be less of a headache. But she was fairly certain he'd already asked Ginny, and the girl deserved to get to go to the Ball. She really was a nice girl.

That left her back at square one. The thought of asking Susan made her stomach somersault. Cho was easier. She would ask Cho.

She checked the clock. They had a few minutes until lunch, and she could probably catch her outside of the Great Hall and ask. Easy.

When they went down to lunch, she waited outside the doors, and soon enough she saw Cho, walking beside her friend who Hyacinth was pretty sure was named Marietta, but otherwise knew nothing about.

"Cho!"

The girl with raven hair stopped and her eyes locked on to Hyacinth, and she smiled and walked to her.

"Hyacinth! How are you?"

"I'm alright. Listen, Cho, I was wondering if you would, er, go to the ball with me?"

Cho's smile fell. "Oh, I would, Hyacinth, it's only, somebody's already asked me, and I told him I'd go."

Well. That left her with only one option, which was not being a coward.

"Oh, okay. No problem. See you, Cho."

"I am sorry, Hyacinth." And she did look genuinely sorry, which served as evidence for what Fred said about the girl having a crush on her.

"It's alright."

She walked to the Slytherin table and reported her failure to Tracey, who was torn between sympathetic and smug. "I told you, you should've went with your heart. You'd better ask Susan before somebody else does."

"Fine, fine. I'll ask her tonight. It's a little bit rude to ask somebody five minutes after you've asked someone else."

"But a few hours makes a difference?"

"A bit of one."

. . .

"Lucius, dear," called Narcissa, "Don't forget, I'm taking the children tomorrow to get their clothes for the Yule Ball at Hogwarts."

Her husband smiled and nodded. "I recall. Who, exactly, is our daughter taking?"

Narcissa frowned. "Some Bulgarian girl. Yana something or other. Pureblood, of course, but an awful name. Drisana and Yana. The rhyme is quite tacky."

"Well, it's only for this year, and you know how Drisana is, she'll forget about her within a week."

"Of course, dear, but I'm afraid it's been quite distressing for Hyacinth."

"I would imagine. They're inseparable."

"She's going with the Bones girl."

"Bones?"

"Yes. She wrote and told me all about it, of course. Apparently she's quite taken with the Hufflepuff."

"And Drisana?"

"I doubt she's noticed yet, if it's true that she's clinging to this Durmstrang one, but I'm sure she will. And Merlin help the Bones girl when she does."

"We raised Drisana to be many things, but I don't think patient was one of them."

"No," Narcissa agreed. They had certainly not raised a patient girl. And when she did notice Hyacinth giving her attention to someone else, she wouldn't be happy, however hypocritical that was.

. . .

"You're going with Susan Bones?" Drisana was just hearing the news, the night before they were all going shopping with Narcissa.

"Yeah," Hyacinth informed her with a small smile. "I asked her like a week ago."

"Oh."

"She's sweet."

"I'm sure. She seems very nice. A Hufflepuff would be, though."

"There's nothing wrong with being a Hufflepuff."

The rest of their roommates were watching the exchange silently, pretending to be minding their own business.

"No, but they seem so dull."

"Well, Susan's not."

"I suppose."

"Not even a Ravenclaw?"

"I can go with a Gryffindor, if you don't like Hufflepuff."

" _No!_ Hufflepuff is fine!"

"And, for the record, not that you noticed, I _did_ ask a Ravenclaw, and she already had a date."

" _Who?"_

"Cho Chang."

"And she said _no?_ I thought she had a crush on you?"

Hyacinth was exasperated. "Did _everyone_ know that but me?"

The other girls all chimed in with assent.

"Oh, whatever. Like I said, she already had a date. And I'd rather go with Susan anyway."

Drisana frowned, and went to bed.

. . .

The next day was a flurry of excitement, which started out with all of them meeting Narcissa in the Headmaster's office to take the Floo.

They stepped out onto a busy street lined with expensive-looking shops, and they were led by the Malfoy matriarch into one with ballgowns and suits in the window.

Pansy, of course, went with a juvenile shade of bubblegum pink, picking out a pink tie for Blaise. Ginny and Theo were going with simple black. Athena and Daphne chose coordinating gowns of silver and emerald. Drisana mentioned that Yana wanted to wear lavender, so she got a suit with lavender accents, and Hyacinth, for some reason, felt annoyance at that.

Speaking of Hyacinth, Susan wanted to wear gold, and Hyacinth found a lovely white gown with gold detailing through it. It was perfect and would match the other girl flawlessly.

. . .

"I want to get this right," came the desperate confession to her best friend later that night.

"You'll be fine, flower. It's just a dance," was Hermione's response.

"I know, but it's a whole _night,_ what if I do something wrong?"

"You won't. And she's lucky to even go with you."

"It's the other way around."

"I would think you'd have a little more pride after three and a half years of Slytherin."

"I do have _pride_ but she's so pretty."

"So are you."

That stopped Hyacinth short. She never much thought about whether or not others considered her beautiful, more or less she just knew she wasn't ugly and that was as much as it had ever mattered.

Did that mean Susan thought she was pretty?

"She probably does," Hermione assured her when she voiced the question.

 _Wow._ That was a nice feeling.


End file.
